IF THERE is a human need to seek rules for life's romantic problems from an authority who supposedly knows them all, you have come to the right place. So say the American authors of The Rules time tested secrets for capturing the heart of Mr Right.
The essence of Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider's book is that almost all women, when they turn in there thoughts to findings a husband, fail utterly because they approach "the subject" with a nonsense, practical attitude. In other words, not the way Jane Austen would play it "Men play games and women play games. But women feel their degrees and pay cheques entitle them to do more in life than wait for the phone to ring." Fein and Schneider reprimand their sisters. "These women always end up heartbroken when their forwardness is rebuffed.
The Rules,~"written without plot, or irony", are clear. Rule Number
1: "Don't talk to a man first and never ask him to dance."
Number 2: "Don't call him and rarely return his calls," while Number I4 suggests no more than "casual kissing on the first date" and Rule.
Number 20 advises women to "be honest, but mysterious."
The problem with The Rules on this side of the Atlantic is that if nothing else, they will be completely ignored. As a rule of thumb, they have been criticised as "retrograde, sexist, dispiriting and infuriating." Clearly, the rules which govern European mating rituals bear little resemblance to The Rules. And if the young women who embarked on the annual British Season, which began amid, much gusto last week, are taken at" their word, rules are there to be broken.
The Season is "more about sex these days, less about finding a husband" and is not the classy event it used to be. It was once a "tired British affair of the 18th century and the rules until the 1980s' at least, were rigid.
For those who took part, the choices were clear one spends a terrific amount of Daddy's money ending charity lunch Ascot Glyndebourne and Queen Charlotte's Ball to snare the Honourable so and so, or one spends a terrific amount of Daddy's money attending charity lunches, Ascot ... yes, the picture is all so very, very clear now but today, the object of "doing The Season" doesn't always mean going to Henley Regatta to watch the boat races, but "doing it" in the rather more athletic Sense of the word.
A few of the Old Guard faithful remain to ensure The Season's traditions live on. They stamp in the divots, squint at horses through their binoculars and give the queen some one to talk to on the Royal Lawn at Ascot. Where, incidentally, in 1965 you couldn't get in if (you were a divorcee. The Old Guard are the stiff upper lip types.
These people do The Season simply because they love the sport and are recognisable by "a classic dog eared elegance they unashamedly dust down last year's outfits and pop on a serviceable summer (coat when a British breeze blows up." The Season remains the gayest, most class conscious get together of the year.