May 16: Say it Out Loud Day

I’ve decided to anoint this day, May 16th, Say it Out Loud Day.

Participation is completely up to you, but I for one am going to be say-say-saying it out loud every chance I get in the next 17 hours.

To be clear, by "say it out loud" I mean pay a sincere, clothing-related compliment to a person whom you don't know.

I chose today not because it was in any way different from the 364 other sun-ups-to-sun-downs and not because some life-changing event from a May 16th past has motivated me to do so, but because I was so moved by the random compliment of kindness I witnessed yesterday and struck by the very real potential for those four simple, he-didn’t-have-to-say-them-but-he-did-anyway words – “those are gorgeous shoes” – to turn into a first date, a first movie, a first Tantric Sunday, a dog with a bow on a birthday, and so on. It can happen. It does happen. So whether you’re in the mood to fall in love, in the market for a fabulous new girlfriend, or you just want the satisfaction of making someone's day, try taking the initiative and say it out loud.


As a precaution, however, if you have a lazy or glass eye, are forced to wear an eye-patch or suffer from the condition that runaway bride from Minnesota has where the eyes open a little too widely, perhaps it’s best if you sat this one out. I don’t usually like to discriminate against the wonky-eyed, but in this case, when stranger-to-stranger conversation is involved, both parties will inevitably leave the exchange more uncomfortable than before they entered into it. Evidence of such an incident shown above.

For the rest of you, especially those individuals who don’t “do” small-talk even with people you know relatively well like work colleagues, the guy who makes your same grapes/pears/red onions/Gorgonzola salad every single Monday, Wednesday and Friday at the Cosi on 19th and M, and the woman who waxes you from end-to-end-to-end on all-fours every five weeks, I strongly suggest you try at least once acting on that impulse you usually suppress and just tell that woman standing next to you in line at Chipotle how much you dig her cherry-red flats.

If you’re willing to join me in this endeavor, there are a few guidelines by which I would try to abide:

1. Do NOT comment on physical features – leave that kind of class-act to the day laborers outside the paint store next to Whole Foods and the lobbyists “working late” with their young assistants at the oyster bars in Georgetown

2. Stick to articles of clothing, shoes and large accessories – jewelry is off-limits because (a) it’s too intimate and (b) because of its small size, your commenting on it implies you’ve been doing more than just taking a glance at the person

3. Don’t approach people wearing headphones or who are otherwise giving off the impression "please leave me alone" – it can work, there are cases, but for the most part, those iBuds are in the hot girl's ears for a reason and it’s not because she couldn’t do without listening to Rihanna’s “S.O.S.” for 20 minutes

4. Offer a compliment that doesn’t require anything more than a “thank you” response – you’re the one doing the work, not your subject; often (s)he’ll say something you can then build on but don’t assume this will happen

I know this is out of character for me - ripping on Katherine Heigl’s elephant legs it certainly ain’t - and you're right to suspect a black-humor angle to my uncharacteristic kindness, but in all honesty, today is just one of those days when I need a bit of strucutre to keep me from listening to "November Rain," "Reason Why" and "This Year's Love" on a constant pity-party three-repeat. It was either introducing Say it Out Loud Day or calling in "sick" and going through the entire from-Say-Anything-to-Must-Love-Dogs John Cusack dramedy repetoire on my couch in boyshorts and a 'beater. Judging from the look on the face of my first "I love that _____!" recipient as I walked to work this morning, I'm pretty sure I made the right decision.

Pass it on, ladies.

Please allow me a brief digression from fashion critique for this public service announcement. Ladies, it is of the utmost importance, so please pay attention.

Two Thursdays ago, while on a first date at the Ritz in Georgetown, a couch-ful of ladies had my waiter deliver to me a note and a second Kir Royale after my companion excused himself from the table to take not his first, not his second but his third non-emergency 10+ minute phone call in the space of an hour.

The first hour, mind you.

The note read, "He doesn't deserve you. Leave now. We speak from experience."

He didn't. I didn't. And they did.

Tonight, while enjoying the 75-degree breeze, the onion loaf and a single cut of black-and-blue filet on the Morton's downtown terrace, R and I had the displeasure of sitting next to a young couple, the male half of which spent the better part of the evening booring into his bluetooth earpiece, save for the three minutes he tried unsuccessfully to get the attention of a guy on the opposite side of ConnAve who he was convinced was a former frat brother at Tulane. After his "NATHAN! Yo, dude, NATHAN! Up here! UP HERE!" episode, it got to the point where we weren't even annoyed when he guffawed about how much "frickin' Chivas Regal" he had left over from last weekend's dinner party, we were just stunned his much more attractive, much more polite (she kept shooting everyone in their vicinity "I'm so sorry" glances) companion was still sitting in her seat, calmly nursing her glass of Cab Sauv and doing her best to look occupied with her text logs.

"I'm going to have to pass the note forward," I thought to myself, "I just have to."

And so on our way out, I gave our waiter the proper instructions and handed him a note neatly cursived with those same 10 words.

Ladies, don't put up with it. Don't let your fellow DC sisters put up with it, either. Pass it on.