PC and Me: A Drama in One Act

In the grand scheme of things, it's hard to know when you're going to put your foot in your mouth, but in this age of political correctness, sometimes there is nothing that you're able to say without doing it in one way or another. Sometimes you're left with absolutely nothing to say, even though social conventions require an answer.

Confused enough yet? Let me elaborate. Last week, I went to see two acquaintances, Tim and Peter, whom I first met, oh, maybe 17 years ago or more when their band, Cordelia's Dad, came through Columbus and whom I used to spend some time hanging out with when they played in town. It had been over a decade since I'd last seen them, so I bit the bullet and took the kids to see their show last week.

It was then that I got into an uncomfortable situation. Here we were, well over a decade since we'd last seen each other, talking after the show; all of us are married with kids now, which is great. Tim has two kids skewed a little younger than my two (same age split, but maybe one year younger than each of my kids) and Peter has a daughter who is three. Still, we stood there with our various offspring running around or in arms and I tried to have a distracted conversation while they packed up their instruments before they got too wet (it was an outdoor show and it had started to sprinkle). The conversation was feeling butt-ass awkward for some reason, but most likely it was because I was really, really tired and I had the kids there by myself, which is stressful on the food allergy front people around us are having all sorts of cheesy or milky snacks to eat or accidentally scatter on the ground. I was feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, too, perhaps because of my braces or perhaps because I live a very different life now around a very "non-artistic" crowd and wasn't sure what I could possibly say that would interest them. Perhaps it's also because I've been at home with kids for the past eight years and have trouble conversing with adults now in any meaningful fashion.

So, there I was, talking to Peter who had his young daughter in his arms. I got through the first bits of the conversation where you mention the ages or names and it came to the part where I was supposed to respond with a compliment. All of a sudden, I was tripping over my words.

What I wanted to say was, "She's really pretty" or "She's really lovely", but I was tongue-tied by all the PC stuff that says that it's socially unacceptable to call attention to a girls looks as it might damage them forever by putting focus on the exterior. The problem I was having was that she really was pretty (since when has it become an evil statement to say that someone is pretty or handsome?! If they are, well, then they just are!). She was just sitting in his arms, not talking, just looking at me quietly. I froze! Hmm, I couldn't compliment her on her intelligence because I hadn't seen her do anything brainy (though I'm sure that she's quite bright), I couldn't compliment her on her physical prowess or stunning vocabulary because she was just quietly and calmly sitting in her father's arms. And she was looking sweet. And pretty.

I was at a loss, crushed between what I wanted to say and "correctness". In the end, I mumbled out something that I can't even remember though I got the impression that it wasn't enough. Whatever it was that I said, I'm sure that it certainly wasn't, "She's really pretty." Ah, bumbling through an already awkward conversation. I had wanted to compliment him on his lovely daughter and I couldn't even find a way to do it that might not potentially offend someone. The situation really stunk. This isn't the only time that I've been in this situation, either; one time, when making a polite compliment about an acquaintance's daughter, I went with the old standard and got icy stares from both her parents. After that, I just wasn't up for having it happen again. And this was a no win situation.

I hate political correctness... less offense, more stress. Ugh.