The Fine Art Of Seducing By Force

A Story by Trodd Mamabolo

Just a memory I have of a certain period.

For those of us who are flirtatiously challenged, wooing by force is the only way to go. Rules, shmules. But I can understand why the traditional art of flirting might work for others: the manic batting of eyelashes, long distance come-hither looks, sheets of hair flicking about and pouty giggles. The whole 'air-of-mystery' thing must have its attractions. It's just that if you are a naturally loud person, without a mysterious hair on your head, there is something deeply farcical about this approach. I can’t say that I have never given it a whirl.

I am a firm believer in the art of wooing by force and here’s why: At school, I really tried to cultivate some feminine wiles; it was just the spectacular lack of success I experienced that led me to change tactics. Picture the scene: A dance in the ‘90s. Depeche Mode is playing in a school hall festooned with prodigious amounts of crepe paper; the girls are all wearing tiny neon socks, bubble skirts and alarmingly large earrings. The boys are all dripping with embarrassment, Levi labels and Adidas aftershave. As Desirable Girl sidles over to me, my gaggle of girlfriends erupts into a cacophony of urgent whisperings. ‘Flick your cap,’ giggles one. ‘Smile at her, but don’t let your braces show,’ says another. (I didn’t even wear braces. I had bad teeth. OK?!!) ‘No, no, ignore her,’ whispers a third furiously. ‘Pretend I just said something funny. Laugh. But without your braces.’

By the time Desirable Girl reaches me, I’m earnestly trying to pull all this advice into practice at once, and am managing a fair impression of a toothless person with a tic. ‘Trodd Mamabolo, right? Want to dance?’ she mumbles, uncertainly. ‘Yes!’ I shriek, forgetting myself and giving her what she must have thought was a full metallic grin. ‘I’m so glad you asked! I have liked you for the longest time! Does this mean you like me too?’

Desirable Girl shuffles backwards in horror, as my friends start clucking and sighing in that way that only teenage girls and disappointed mothers have perfected. We all know it doesn’t get worse than teenage humiliation, and once you have passably survived that " well, the dating world is your oyster. By the time I got to varsity, I was beyond such trifles as personal humiliation and mortification. Flirting forcefully is liberating. I can only recommend it. Not only does it save oodles of time, it spares u from those awful 'is-he-going-to-call' evenings by the phone. If you do it with enough confidence, there seems to be the happy side effect that others assume u must be a catch. Few people realise that it may be a by-product of humiliation overload; they assume you get to act this way coz you are used to people finding you attractive. This means that even if your ardour isn’t returned, you can emerge from each incident with at least some shards of dating world dignity.

The other day, I took my friends four year old nephew, Jack, to the video store. Just as we had secured his cartoon, a curly-topped ‘pretty-in-pink’ toddler waltzed in with her mother. Jack sprang to her side and craned his face around her shoulder, obscuring her view of the Power Puff Girls selection. ‘What are you getting?’ he inquired winningly. ‘I have got Ben 10. I like Ben 1000 though.’ He lustily sang a snatch of the theme song to pique her interest. Wreathed in smiles, he skipped to keep up as her mother dragged her away. ‘Do you want to come to my house and watch it? You look nice. Do you want to be my friend?’

You go Jack!!