Never compliment a woman, you fool!

“I like those shoes on you. You’re right about wearing colour rather than black,” I said.

With these simple word’s my tongue dug a hole for the rest of my body and pogoed me in.

I had said them in all good faith and to a long-time friend of mine who, and this is (as far as I’m concerned) the nub of my reasoned explanation against the imagined offence I was about to cause, had recently told me she was sick of wearing so much black and longed to be brave enough to experiment with colours.

She had some coloured heels on (1).

She looked lovely (2).

I told her.

A sullen silence followed.

“So you don’t think I look nice in black?”

“What?”

“You don’t think it suits me or you don’t think I can carry it?”

“Eh? No. I mean yes, you can. I meant your shoes…”

“I’ve worn these before,” the venom of accusation dripping from her lips. And eyes. I remember the eyes. Narrow and hard like being stared at by Clint Eastwood after he found out you have just clubbed his wife unconscious with his pet dog.

“I know, but they are, er, nice, you know and you were saying you wanted more colour…”

“So you don’t think I look nice the rest of the time?”

“Of course!”

“But you’re saying I need colour?”

“No, no I’m not saying that. Look, I was just saying you looked nice. The shoes are nice. The colour. You wanted more colour. It’s nice. I’m sorry.”

This was three weeks ago. I am still getting grief about it.

Women of the world. Take a fucking compliment when offered. Christ knows this world is shit enough without them and who knows when you’ll get another one.

==========

(1) Leopard print. High. Sexy.

(2) She did – tight black pants – fantastic arse.