Baewatch: Keeping the love of your life interested
Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.
Okay, so you say you’ve spied The One. That don’t impress me much. What you need to do next is get the conversation flowing, the chemistry popping, the heart beating – you need advice, and for such advice you have absolutely come to the right place. Through many years of research, hours of practice and minutes of success, I have shortlisted my favourite, foolproof techniques to sealing the deal.
Method 1: Bonding Over Mutual Activities
“So, do you come here often?” you ask Fred from Kings as you pull down the wooden bench of the row next to his, dropping it with such bravado that the noise ricochets across Sidgwick site and several miles beyond. Of course he does. What a stupid thing to say. “Yes.” Fred replies, “Can you pass me a handout please.”
“Oh, yeh. Yeh. Right. So do I. What a coincidence. Haha. Ha.”
Fear not, hope is not lost. Like music to your ears, the lecturer announces that they are officially out of handouts. Now is your chance. Sharing is caring. Sharing is love. Sharing is lif–Fred has a laptop. Fred has found the handout on Moodle.
That's okay, every intellectual has a Plan B: “haha this is so boring haha,” you remark. The lecture hasn’t even started yet. Fred looks at you with concern. The lecturer looks at you with concern. Your friends look at each other with concern and pretend they don't know you. They edge away in their seats and then get up as one and move across the hall. You sit in silence for the longest two minutes of your life. Lecture begins. You vow never to speak to Fred again.
Method 2: Physical Theatre
When it comes to love, actions speak louder than words. We know the trope: woman in a rush finds herself stuck behind Channing Tatum in the queue at local artisanal cafe, where she is a regular. Woman drops her keys or something. Channing chuckles a chivalric chuckle and picks them up for said woman. Eyes meet. Sparks fly. One overpriced mocha choca latte Ariana Grande voulez-vous coucher avec moi later and they’re married. Did you honestly think this cute but clumsy slip of the hand was a genuine accident? You were very wrong. My friends, this was a calculated, yet effortlessly theatrical, flick of the wrist.
I've been giving this one a go recently, you know. Running around Cambridge for days, encountering coffee shop upon coffee shop, dropping my keys from various heights and at various angles. No takers. None. I even added bells and several heavy weights as key rings to contribute to noise levels. Nothing.
Method 3: The Internet
No longer must we whittle away, waiting for our lovers to receive our letters soaked in tears of passion and droplets of perfume; just slide straight into those DMs. I don’t think we humans have quite mastered the art of messaging just yet, so be as experimental as you like – call it the post-post-modernism of the interweb, if you will.
Top tip: I would personally recommend experimenting with space and going ghost for several days. It’s a real crowd pleaser and keeps up a mysterious vibe. Combine mediums and go incognito in public while you’re at it. Such mystery, such intrigue. Works every time.
Method 4: Classical Conditioning
This technique can be applied to a multitude of locations, and with a multitude of objects, but for today let's take a classic case study: the smoking area. Firstly, you need to be recognisable. In this instance, I would opt for glitter. Nothing screams “absolute-and-literal-light-of-your-life-sunshine-of-the-universe-provider-of-your-needs” more than covering every centimetre of exposed skin with the stuff. Strut out to that fresh air like the disco ball you are and just WAIT for those heads to turn. Except you remember you’re at Arcsoc and everyone looks the same.
That’s fine, no worries. What I’m trying to say is, just make sure you bring a lighter to every club night ever. You know what, go wild, bring seven. Maybe eight. I don’t care if you don’t smoke. Skip pres, skip the dancing and stand outside. Alone. All night. Every night. “Oi, do you have a lighter?” you hear faintly from the distance, “yES. YES. I do. Yes,” you chime. You’ll have a swarm of wannabe roadmen around you faster than you can say, “of course I know how to roll a cigarette”. Essentially, you are Pavlov, and the world is your dog.
And there you have it. Off you go. Romance is most definitely on your horizons. Just don’t forget to credit me in your meet-cute tale.