I was walking down the street—neither in a hurry nor strolling for leisure. Simply put, I had a destination to reach. Then a man stopped me—not discouraged by my headphones. A tourist, I assumed. I braced myself for the usual: playing the guide.
Despite being born and living in Bratislava, my knowledge of landmarks is sparse. So you can imagine my anxiety when he began with the classic ice-breaker:
“Excuse me, do you speak English?”
When I confirmed, he smiled. I thought—here it comes, he’ll ask for directions to Bratislava Castle.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he said, “I just like how you’re dressed. Have a nice day. Bye.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.
I just stood there for a moment, wondering—was I dreaming, or did that really happen? Compliments from strangers usually come with subtext or discomfort.
I kept thinking—what did he see?
I even checked my reflection in a parked car window, half-expecting to find something odd or striking. But it was just… me. I wasn’t even wearing a dress or a gown—something I’d expect to be praised for. And even then, people usually keep compliments to themselves. I do too.
So I admire the young man for saying it aloud—with confidence, without hesitation.
It didn’t solve any of my problems. It didn’t brighten my day.
In fact, it put me off balance.
Even after his figure had disappeared down the street, I kept glancing over my shoulder—as if I’d wake up any moment and realize it hadn’t happened at all. Just a dream. And the world would go back to making sense again.
