Do you ever have the urge to store away compliments? Because sometimes when you get one you don’t have the leisure to fully appreciate it, to take it out, turn it over, see how it looks from this angle and that, to really savor it? Wouldn’t it be great to just have a place where every nice thing that has ever been said about you is kept, so you can page through them when you’re feeling glum, or remember precisely the wording of that particularly satisfying and well-deserved praise?

I know, seriously. Who would ever think of that? Only a freak, that’s who.

…

Yes, I am a compliment gollum.

But so what. It’s allowed! It’s a free country! I should be able to thoroughly drench myself in narcissism every once in a while, alright?

The only problem with compliments is that they are so fleeting. It’s hard to imagine a situation in which you would really have the opportunity to fully gloat over a compliment like you ought to be able to. It’s like it’s a chocolate truffle poised inches from your lips, but you only have a moment to inhale its delicate scent before it’s gone.

But maybe it’s just not possible to have that ultimate praise—the praise that means more than anything else, the moment when you say to yourself, I have done it—excellently. If I could just experience all the compliments I have received simultaneously, in their entirety, perhaps I would feel the satisfaction that seems all too fleeting, instead of each one being an isolated moment that too soon falls prey to my incipient Alzheimer’s.

So now my debate is over whether getting something published in The New Yorker would count as My Ultimate Praise, or if it would have to be a personal letter from their editor-in-chief extolling my invaluable contribution to the magazine. What do you think? It’s kind of a toss-up for me so….

Anyway.

The other problem with compliments is that they never come out of nowhere. They never sneak up and surprise you. So by the time you get a compliment for one thing, you’re already at the point where it feels in keeping with your accomplishments. I, for one, would like to have my compliments served prematurely, and with a doggy bag for extra helpings. I don’t want to hear that my novel is great after I’ve already had the good fortune to get a novel published! It won’t be as shocking! How about someone from W. W. Norton calling me up and telling me what a great writer I am Right Now! Now that would have impact! That would be a compliment that would get my heart rate up! That is what I’m looking for. An unsolicited, out-of-the-blue, over-the-top Thumbs Up, Good Job R., A+ given by an extravagantly prestigious source.

Now why is it that they have to be entirely undeserved to be entirely satisfying?

Man, I miss school, where every term you had a chance to receive four A-shaped compliments and grade inflation was rampant.

Life just doesn’t offer enough opportunities to be publicly recognized for your brilliance, does it? That’s it, I’m going back to school.

In Mexico. Or some other fabulous location.

Let the undue praise begin.