All is Love in Fair and War

If you are reading this, Lieber Leser, then the question of your intellectual salvation is already decided. As someone completely enthralled by the pythagorean music of the blogospheres, you know that it's always two for the price of one here: dulce et utile, sweet and handy, peanut butter and jelly, Dick und Doof. You are one of the elect. "Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?" asks the Evangelist; here, my friend, we safely deposit both options into your morning cereal. Roughage is good for the digestion. In short, we need not worry about the condition of your mind; "Where flies gather, there stinks the meat", as they say.

Indeed, I detect only one weakness in my reader; alas, it is a fatal one. Of course I am speaking of cupiditas, amor, das Liebe, eros, l'amour: all terms perfectly translated by the English phrase "crackerjack in the knickers".

My reader does not know how to love. My reader feels in his or her breast the dreadful burning of a forest that hath no hunky firefighter. Thankfully, and gleefully, I am also a trained quencher of flames. Many's the time I've put down the stylus and scroll of Dame Philosophy to spend an afternoon gamboling with her comely cousin in the hillocks. And what hillocks they were, dear reader! I know the sweets and sours as well as any mere Ovidius Naso; I've written sonnnets more languorous than any dour Petrarca; have seen and suffered more than the hobby-horsical contraptions of a priggish de Sade.

Indeed, now that I've quite warmed up to the topic at hand, I feel I can offer the reader some practical advice. Following the trend so popular in magazines and on the Internet, I have reduced thousands of well-researched pages into 10 pithy bit-sized rules for your immediate consumption. Sit back then; cool your ardour with a cup of Ginger Beer, and allow Old Ting-Tang to work his Walla-Bing-Bang.

The Top Ten Practical Rules of Love,

or,

Sir Fopling Flutter Clears the Custard.

~Rule the tenth: Less is always more. ~

The plucky intellectual of today is used to persuing love with the same vigour and vim that he or she employs when hunting down a reference, attacking a thesis paper, or quaffing a midnight dram with the Lieutenant. This is a mistake. There is no surer anathema to the venereal enterprise than forthright action. It is as hammer to egg; we must slowly and surely boil the thing hard, if we are to preserve it for lunch. For nothing scares off a potential entrée more quickly than the admission of hunger. It will leap off the plate like a renegade greenpea, and stay hid in the corner for countless generations. We must be coy. Thus, if you see someone you fancy, never apprise them of the fact. Turn your head, snort your nostrils, furrow your brow. Start whistling The Nightingales if you have to. Claw your cheeks. Bay at the Moon. Bang your head against the nearest memorial bronze. Above all, cease and desist, o brave Miura Bull, for the next pase could be fatal! Proceed softly. As the Italians say: piano, piano (or in German, tuba, tuba.)

~Rule the ninth: Eye, stalk, chase, pounce, bite.~

There is much to be learned from the predatory behaviour of our canine companions. Woofologists have analyzed the instinctual sequence of wolf and dog hunting strategies, honed by millennia of careful evolutionary nitpicking. First they eye out a straggler. Then they creep up, while it unknowingly munches on some innocuous vegetable. Eventually the hunter is close enough to risk an open charge. This followed by a muscular pounce. If the timing is right, a good old snap at the jugular works wonders to pacify the slightly ruffled lambchop-to-be. What, you stupidly ask, has this to do with making of sweet sweet romance? Oh reader. Poor, innocent, mutton-faced reader.

~Rule the eighth: Argumentum ad hominem.~

Two axioms reign over The Kingdom of Courtship like the twain Kings of Sparta. One, the Home King, dictates how women judge men, while t'other, the warlike Away King, arranges a man's troops in the tactical selection of a female. The latter is a simple matter: for men, the fate of the race is a rate of the face. Superficial our sex that judges by the merely plastic qualities of ship, shape, and sharp! Women, on the other hand, tend to probe at l'homme diachronique, or man-historical. What has he done? What will he do? Where for god-sakes has he done it? etc. etc. Hard though the dispensations of Fate may be in these regards, do not despair if you find yourself deficient in quality (or quantity). Both attributes can be dickied by variations in lighting and make-up. For the gents, a fashionable eye-piece and cuff-link combination has never yet failed this man-o'-war, penury regardless.

~Rule the seventh: Work the kidneys.~

Some boxers are subtle enough to avoid the schnozzle area in favour of "working the kidneys". Do you likewise by plying your sweetmeat with Highballs. If done correctly, the lowballs will appear of their own accord.

~Rule the sixth. Turn down a bower, cry for an hour.~

By this point, if you have followed the preceding instructions, cozier accomadations will be called for by the toastiest party. Do acquiesce. Remember that your home is your castle, and that no castle is complete without a drawbridge, if you catch my drift. Other features include a moat, bailey, enceinte, keep, curtain wall, barbican, and various battlements. Once you have done explaining the architectural subtleties of the domicile to your princess-cum-take-out dinner, the jousting can commence.

~Rule the fifth: A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.~

Remember that seduction is the art of fox-hunting (minus, of course, the fresh-air). Bar all exits and kick your King James' Version beneath the rug. Strut. Be natural. Maintain persistent eye-contact and chop-licking. The first kiss is a hotly debated topic. Or, depending on your success, a topic debated hotly. There are many set-moves for this particular play, but I think it best to act according to one's nature. Only avoid the number one rookie mistake: always leak before you loop - er, ahem - look before you leap! A tightly clenched crucifix or clove of garlic may indicate reluctance.

~Rule the fourth: Mille e tre. ~

All lovers are not alike. For every thousand amores there are a thousand and three hindrances. In your ongoing Quixotic sojourn you may encounter barriers in the form of morals, cultural differences, or complex clasp-and-hook mechanisms. The first two can be dealt with by the tried and true tactic of "bait and switch". The last problem may require axle and/or pulley. If you are struggling at the gate, take good heart from the heroic dictum of Archimedes: δῶς μοι πᾶ στῶ καὶ τὰν γᾶν κινάσω!* Avoid recalling his other dictum: μὴ μου τοὺς κύκλους τάραττε**.

* “Give me a fixed point and I will move the world.”

**"Do not disturb my circles!"

~Rule the third: Who's on first?~

Baseball is a remarkable sport.

~Rule the second: What's on second!?~

So avoid curling.

~Rule the first: Da Capo!~

Should you forget all the others, I strongly advise you to remember the first and most important rule of all lovemaking in every country and clime: Lather, rinse, repeat.

You are now an excellent lover, or Anchorite. I encourage all my devotees to post about the results of my method on this site - diagrams, Flash animations, and macaroni pictures are always welcome for instructional purposes.