As a recovering hopeful romantic, it’s getting really easy to give up on unworthy men. Thank fuck finally!
On my way back from Melbourne, this well-dressed, intellectual, got-his-shit-together Turkish businessman sitting beside me on the plane asked where I was from.
“Oh, I’m Cambodian, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Are all Cambodian women as beautiful as you, or was I just really lucky?”
He immediately started to blush and regret he said something so sweet and forward. Meanwhile, I was picking up my jaw off the floor. I finally smiled at him hugely and said, “Thank you,” paused, and puzzled over how to continue the conversation without it being too awkward. Something along the lines of ‘yes, yes, they are,’ before I went back to watching a doco on Obama’s staff photographer (who is Pete Souza and also amazing).
Point being - I never realised what a terribly skewed perception of myself I have until I got mad amounts of compliments lately. And, truth, part of it is that I purposely try and make myself approachable. Laura asked, ‘How do you get hit on so much? Maybe cos you’re always smiling and look nice, and I always have my bitch face on.’ Well, fair enough.
I finally feel pretty okay about myself, and now I know I deserve better from men. It’s been a long time coming.
