Why? What kind of outmoded, mediaeval-fairytale-grabbed-by-Mills-and-Boon rubbish is this anyway?
I cannot be doing with it. But then I was born without the Playing Hard To Get gene.
My view is absurdly simple: If I warm to someone, either as a friend or a potential More Than Friend, I want to celebrate that connection. I want to relate to that person – not pretend I am washing my hair every night for a year, or send them off on perilous quests to prove their feelings for me.
Who the hell wants a dead dragon or the feathers of some soon-to-be-extinct bird in this day and age?
I have never understood, or been a party to, the Date Mentality: All this looking in empty diaries for a fictitious day, months ahead, when one might be free for half an hour to take coffee in the local Costa. All this bartering of sex for expensive meals out, theatre tickets, pricey jewellery and an entire Kew Gardens of assorted flowers.
If someone asks me out, and I am free, why should I pretend to an unwillingness I sure as buggery don’t feel? Why create the insecurity of possible other offers along the, ‘Oh, I don’t know if I can: John from Sales has mentioned going to see “Riverdance” that night…’?
Now caution before a date with an unknown I can understand – and applaud as eminently sensible. But games designed to keep a suitor keen, make him (or her) feel that he (or she) has got to prove worthy of every evening spent in my company? No thanks.
Why do we spend so much time and energy pretending we don’t like, even love, people when we actually do? Why do we put on this fake reluctance when someone does us the honour of wanting our company for a few hours? Why does the, ‘How delightful! I’d LOVE to!’ response engender tuts and sighs and unspoken accusations of being little better than a tart?
To put it bluntly, if princes – or commoners – have to do the obligatory three tests to prove themselves, it is worth noting that the princess never actually descends from her tower – the best your knackered prince will get is the unwinding of her ridiculously long tresses and an invitation to climb up – and if that ain’t a sexual metaphor, I don’t know what is!
The Chivalric Code has been misunderstood, bent out of shape, tinkered about with until we are left with this travesty of the rules of relationship.
Life, in my view, is both too short and too precious to bugger about pretending to a coolness one does not feel, and to punishing (because that is what it boils down to) suitors for having the gall to ask one out. Is there not enough insecurity, cruelty and misery in the world without manufacturing it as part of a ‘Love’ game which passed its sell-by date decades ago?
I say again: If you are taken with someone, what is wrong with saying, ‘Yes, please!’
No thanks! This does not work for me!