“You have beautiful eyes.”
This was how I decided to start off a conversation with a random girl at my church a few weeks ago. For context (and in my defense), I was NOT hitting on her. She had been standing by herself for a while after church and I went up to just say hi.
Why I decided to have my opening sentence be a cheesy one-liner, I have no idea.
Unsurprisingly, this led to an incredibly awkward five-minute conversation. And then, just to make things even better, I found out she wasn’t standing alone because she was lonely and wanted someone to come over and talk with her.
She was waiting for her boyfriend—who somehow showed up about two seconds later, apparently having sniffed out my supposed advances from across the room. Needless to say, the only female I now speak with at church is Miss Daisy, a lovely older lady who sometimes sits behind me and is an absolute delight.
Even though I’ve clearly moved on from that awkward conversation, it got me thinking about how I give out compliments. See, I love hyping people up. It gives me joy to notice things in others and point them out in order to uplift them.
According to my mother, I have an encouraging spirit…or is it a spirit of encouragement? Regardless of the name, this is a part of my personality that I actively practice, especially in a world that often jumps first to criticisms/comparisons rather than praise/compliments.
Unfortunately for me, sometimes my brain notices something and rather than fully processing intent vs impact, I just blurt it out, just in case the person was unaware and was dying to know.
This is also how I had an interesting conversation with another friend a few months ago, when I happily informed him that he had veins on his arm that would make all the nurses drool.
Yeeeeaaahhh, even as I write it now, I can see all sorts of red flags waving in the air. However, let me attempt to save myself with some context.
First, he’s a close friend and we’re weird like that. Second, I had recently come from a doctor’s visit where they had to call in a specialist nurse to try and poke my vein with a bigger-than-normal needle, after five nurses had attempted and failed. So, this particular compliment was completely heartfelt, albeit said with a little bit of envy.
Now, before you think me too weird (who am I kidding, that ship has sailed), I had a beautiful encounter last week that made me feel less weird—or at the very least, not alone in my “weirdness.” I was out walking with a friend and these two young boys rode up on their bikes and just randomly started talking with us. I’d like to think that it’s because they could sense we were kindred spirits—but also, do kids these days not learn about stranger danger??
Anyway, as they rode off a few minutes later, one of the kids came back and told me, “You smell really good.” And then he rode off. When I tell you, I was beaming from ear to ear!
There is something about a compliment from a kid that just hits different. At that age, we are often the embodiment of the phrase “say what you mean, and mean what you say.” So, when this kid rode back up to tell me I smelled good, I knew there was no hidden agenda. There was a ring of authenticity and innocence to it. He simply noticed something about me, thought about it, and decided I needed to have this information.
So, this is my formal notice to all my friends (and any unfortunate innocent bystanders): I give out compliments like a kid. I notice something, think it’s cool, and decide to share it with you. I am not trying to sleep with you or suck your blood. So, get over it already and take the damn compliment!

Jesse Kinyua graduated in 2024 with a major in org. communication (don’t bother asking what it is, he also doesn’t know). Born and raised in Kenya, Jesse is currently working at a non-profit in Grand Rapids, where he gets paid to read as many books as he can in eight hours (not really, but wouldn’t that be awesome!). If he’s not at work, he’s probably listening to trash podcasts, attempting to burn down a kitchen, or engaging in his favorite pastime, people-watching.
