A Random Comment

I was a young, impressionable twenty-year-old living in Calgary making new friends. Paula and her husband Peter were two of those new friends. They were from England with those lovely posh accents, and were about ten years older. A bit more sophisticated than me, or so I thought, but we became fast friends.

One day I’m walking downtown and see Peter approaching. Such a nice-looking guy with his blond curly shoulder-length hair. Wearing the coolest bell bottom pants and funky jacket. His sunglasses made him look even more like a movie star. He stopped to chat. We didn’t often get a chance because whenever we saw each other it was at a party. So it was nice to get to know him a bit better.

The following week I’m having lunch with Paula and she says to me ‘Peter tells me he bumped into you last week.’

‘Yeah. What a cool guy.’

‘Yes. He told me you guys chatted up a storm. He also said he thinks you’re charming.’

Say what?

I’m charming?

Is that right?

That sounds awfully good.

And quite possibly grown up.

I wanted to ask Paula what prompted him to say this. What did I do to make him think I was charming? Because whatever it was, I’d like to keep doing it.

But I couldn’t ask her because I thought she might think I was fishing for another compliment. Oh good grief - being twenty was tough.

I never did ask her.

But I know how it made me feel.

It was one word. Just. One. Word. CHARMING.

How could one random comment make me feel so special? And seen.

It changed me in ways I never could have imagined. Even fifty years later, it’s still with me.