I HAVE a deadline. My best friend is getting married in April and I need to find a boyfriend by then. I read The Rules: not impressed. Who wants to be a doormat? So I was intrigued by The Unfair Sex. It is a surprisingly modish read; the male species has evidently not evolved at the same rate as the female. What has happened, interestingly, is that men are behaving exactly as they always have while women are now using the same scams.
The mistake a lot of women make is to spend so much time on their own techniques that they lose sight of those being deployed on them. This is where The Unfair Sex comes in. Until now I’d never identified him as such, but I do have a Gibraltar hanging around (doesn’t everyone?). He e-mails, calls, turns up, offers to cut me keys to his flat. Occasionally I let him take me out for dinner, but because he is so frustratingly nice I am often vile to him. Note to men: leave it alone, save some money.
The Body Technique is likewise still in operation. Why else did I laugh when I was rugby tackled every time I crossed the park to university? Incidentally, a lot of girls play variations on this game. Arm wrestling in pubs, messing around in swimming pools. And, to be fair, initiating close physical contact is always going to be a winner if they like you at all.
Once you’re alerted to the techniques, they are obvious. But only if you’re sober. Spotting technicians is progressively more difficult with each drink. This is the “beer goggles” effect; you might be swayed by someone’s comedic banter or the masterful way in which they stop lifts, arm wrestle or open their wallets.
But why is dishonesty necessary? Because fibbing is fun and playing the game is sexy. The important thing is not to subjugate your real personality for some fantasy pull.
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I once arrived at a very smart restaurant for dinner with a man I wasn’t sure I would recognise. All I could remember was that he was generous, free-spirited and party-loving. He had primed the waiter and as I sat down a Bellini arrived. Top marks. But then he noticed the speed I was drinking at and said: “Sip it — it’s not pop!” He then called the waiter and demanded to know exactly how the cocktails were priced. I put a tenner on the table and walked out.
Technique is not enough. You need consistency.
SARA LAWRENCE
sara.lawrence@thetimes.co.uk