It could be worse OP.
I once asked the love of my life what he liked best about me, what was his favourite thing...why was he with me? Prior to this I'd been really vulnerable with him about all the things I noticed and appreciated about him. I mean, I listed it, Elizabeth Barrett Browning style. It was really fucking romantic.
He thought about his response for over an hour. We were holding hands, strolling through our holiday destination, the picture of loved up. He stopped dead in his tracks, turned to me, looked me in the eyes with such tenderness and humility.
"Remember, that question you asked me earlier...about why I like being with you and what you're good at and stuff? The compliment thing? I've actually thought of one."
I braced myself for what was clearly going to be the most romantic moment of my life.
"You are the safest driver I know. I always feel really comfortable in the passenger seat with you."
Literally the moment I knew it was over and I liked him way more than he liked me.
He never understood why I wasn't more appreciative of that compliment. I just remember him running after me through the cobbled streets... "WHAT?! IT WAS A GENUINE COMPLIMENT?! YOU ARE A REALLY GOOD DRIVER!!!"
I gave him a chance to redeem himself..."Is that really the only thing you like about me? After a year and a half? Is there anything else? At all? To help me understand why you are with me? Now. Here. Today. Good listener? I make you laugh? Great masseuse? You seem to enjoy all of those things at the time...or am I totally deluded?"
"I'm sure there are other things. That's just the thing I think about most about you. If you give me sometime, like a few days, I do feel like I could think of something else. I don't get why you're so upset...do you not think you're a good driver? Did something happen? Cos I promise you are. I always feel like you're my Mum or something when you're driving. Like really safe. That's a nice thing, no?"
I shit you not.