The 'Columbus' Compliment: “Has Nobody Ever Told You You’re Beautiful?”
(DISCLAIMER: This is based on annoyance not hard fact, so consider it a conversation starter.)
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“Has nobody ever told you you’re beautiful?”
“I can’t believe no one else can see in you what I do.”
“I can’t believe no one else has snatched you up yet.”
“Anyone would be a fool not to want you.”
“Don’t you know how lovely you are?”
“Are you not used to getting compliments or something?”
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I’m sure I speak for many people when I say that it can feel fantastic to receive a compliment – both within the first (and hopefully, continual) steps of the ritual that is dating, and as part of everyday life. Paying compliments, too, can feel just as nice. My grandma recently discovered the joys of having her nails done, and when I see her, I get as much of a kick out of asking her to show them off as I’m sure she does when I notice them. Compliments can give you the boost you need, can counteract the hurtful comments people sometimes make, and can be a perfect way into conversation.
On the other hand, I’m sure I also speak for many people when I say that it can feel uncomfortable, unpleasant, and unwelcome to receive a compliment – especially when that compliment (as many are) is unsolicited.
Since I hit the mean streets of Egham years ago as an undergraduate, I have tried to give people the benefit of the doubt when they’ve thrown a compliment my way – especially if I’ve met them in a virtual capacity, where it is much harder to read the other person’s reaction. Most people haven’t learned the science of paying a compliment (being a highly delicate matter riddled with contextual nuance), let alone the art of how to date. But as a young woman who has heard a range of compliments over the years, it is only recently as I stumbled into the virtual world of wooing that my hatred for one particular category of compliments grew.
I’m calling them “Columbus compliments”.
To my knowledge, this isn’t a formal category, and despite my Googling I’ve struggled to clearly map their characteristics. There seems to be a difficulty in categorising compliments in general; most categorisations are highly vague and hinge more on what is being complimented, or how it is being paid. Susan Krauss identifies nine types of compliment (including awkward, inappropriate and ‘sales pitch’); meanwhile, Rosie Leizrowice declares that there are only two – things you can control, and things you can’t. The “Columbus compliment” is far more specific than that.
Alliteration aside, the Columbus compliment is so named because it suggests a discoverer mentality, and Columbus is widely regarded as the most famous “discoverer” of all. Discovery, however, is the close friend of presumption; something can be new to you but simultaneously familiar to someone else. I am sure I do not need to explain the irony of Columbus’ label as ‘discoverer’, nor point out the ignorance he appears to have had in spades; but, this focus on presumption is critical to the nature of this category of sweet nothings.
For me, a Columbus compliment is one that in some way implies that the person paying it…
has discovered the recipient’s beauty
is the first to have done so
is therefore different to everyone else (think “Pick-Me”s)
The above conditions should be met for a compliment to be deemed a Columbus Compliment. But, it can ask something of its recipient too – such as…
their lack of self-awareness (namely regarding their own beauty)
their gratitude for having been noticed
On some level, these compliments - conscious or not - seem to be paid with the hope of soliciting an answer which reinforces that the ‘discoverer’ is special – not the beauty who has been ‘discovered’. But, someone else’s specialness isn’t – and shouldn’t be – intrinsically connected with yours. You aren’t the talent scout who discovered the hottest new boy band – and even if you were, they would be just as special without you. Things do blossom unseen, and - to butcher a famous quantum quandary - Schrodinger’s cat is definitely just as adorable whether or not you’re peeking inside the box.
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The following is a breakdown of what I would consider to be a Columbus compliment, which I received from someone on Tinder.
Has nobody ever told you how beautiful you are?
The Frame:
This compliment is framed as a question, creating a greater pressure to respond. Though you should only respond to a compliment if you want to, I think many would agree that there is already an expectation to respond to compliments. Furthermore, we are actively and passively socialised to respond to compliments in certain ways; through lenses like gender, culture, and religion. Pomerantz (1978) found that people tend to be influenced by two conflicting cultural factors when they respond to a compliment – to a) avoid self-praise, and to b) accept/agree with what is said. To navigate this, a ‘complimentee’ tends to show token acceptance (i.e. ‘Thank you), whilst minimising the scale of the compliment (i.e. ‘you’re too kind!’)
But, compliments like this which demand answers appear incompatible with a standard ‘thanks’. If you say “Yes, actually, I have been told I’m beautiful”, you risk cutting that conversation short. Or, you sound arrogant and self-absorbed to your prospective Hot Date. From the One Direction song “You don’t know you’re beautiful” to epic poems, naivety to one’s own attractiveness has historically been systematically idolised (as that’s what makes you beautiful). How can a Capitalist society market products at people who know their own worth without the latest mascara? The phrase “she loves herself” is often accompanied by an eye roll or a sneer - and it may not be the 1800s, but self-praise has a way to go before it is deemed no longer a taboo. Acknowledging your exceptional beauty therefore doesn’t seem like the obvious answer (though I would encourage it!)
The next answer, then, is “No, nobody’s ever told me.”
For starters, this is probably a lie. Whether it’s your partner, friend, family member, Omegle exhibitionist or the written word of your chosen deity, someone somewhere has, likely, told you you’re beautiful. Maybe I’m running away with myself here – after all, the compliment asks whether you’ve been told HOW beautiful you are, not whether you are. But, unless you’re qualifying this (i.e. you’re not/quite/very beautiful), I wouldn’t say amount comes into it so much.
But what if you aren’t lying – what if nobody has ever told you how beautiful you are? It wouldn’t feel great if neither your inner nor outer beauty had never been acknowledged, because beauty is something we actively work on; be it a painstaking skincare regimen, or our daily acts of kindness and self-improvement.
So you say yes, showing off or shutting down - or you say no, feeling like a liar or a loser. Neither seems great – but a mere “thanks” doesn’t answer the question. Your only option left seems to be the “Yes/No but…”
The ‘Who’:
This leads us on to the ‘who’ of this example. In this particular compliment, the persons involved would be the recipient of the compliment (‘you’), plus any number of the 7+ billion of us who have/haven’t declared your beauty. Without an ‘I’ in this question, the person paying the compliment appears remarkably absent. However, like a John Cage masterpiece, the ‘discoverer’ now appears overwhelmingly visible in the blank space of their own absence.
Because, if no one else has noticed your beauty, then they are the first.
Or, if you respond with the ‘Yes/No BUT’ option, then the ‘but’ makes them an exception no matter what the answer is, and thus, exceptional. The only way that this compliment doesn’t flatter the person paying it is to just say yes – but, if you’re trying to snag a hot date, this is hardly an option.
The ‘What’:
Your beauty, but as you’ve forever seen it before. The Columbus compliment tends to focus on your physical attributes or your qualities, as it tends to focus largely on beauty in some form (no one is going to feel special for discovering that your bag is very in season, or that you handled that situation remarkably.) The Columbus compliment lets you discover your own beauty through someone else, as if you hadn’t already.
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If I was to apply my thickest, most scrutinous lens, I would argue that Columbus compliments ultimately seem self-gratifying. Like an antique jewels dealer with an eye for detail or a traveller who describes the charm of an untouched place, it is a tool used by people used to paint themselves into someone else’s narrative. We see the world from our own perspective while trying to relate to others - so this makes sense as we try to build new relationships. But, there is something I find vulgar in this presumption of a prospective date – particularly on online dating apps, where such intense compliments are offered before you’ve even moved the conversation onto WhatsApp or Instagram, let alone met in real life.
Ultimately, the Colombus compliment has to presume in some way, to make bold statements, and to insist that the person giving it is as special, if not more so, than the person it singles out. Humans are not such special creatures; it is bold to assume that your feelings towards, perspectives and experiences of anything are unique.
There are far bigger problems that I could apply my English degree to, rather than doing a close reading of a crappy compliment. But, there could be some conversation points you can perhaps take away from this:
o The online dating scene can be a gnarly, generic place. Why do we pay compliments, and who do we pay them to? In a world of speed swipes and matches, it’s easy to lose sight of them – but refocusing on that person will make it easier to be creative, considerate, and sincere.
o Don’t make assumptions. People aren’t on dating apps to be known already – they want people to get to know them. In a crowd of suitors vying for attention, artificially setting ourselves apart by signalling our discovery makes us just like the rest. Know that everyone is searching for something, but don’t bring the outside in by factoring them into any given compliment.
o Consider our responses to compliments. For Columbus compliments, we can gently remind someone that they aren’t the first to discover our beauty or brilliance, whilst seeking to acknowledge its existence ourselves.
o We don’t have to feel obliged to be polite, or to thank someone for complimenting us – we don’t even have to respond! I think the Han Solo ‘I know’ approach to compliments is pretty wild, but I concede that we aren’t all badass Harrison Fords. It’s important to take control of situations which can feel uncomfortable, and formulating responses to compliments can play a big part of that.
This is just an opinion piece, at the end of the day, but please - continue to notice the beauty in others, just don’t congratulate yourself for doing so.
Written by Genevieve Tomes
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