Courtship in pre-texting days
January 18, 2004 | 12:00am
You would think that the men of the new millennium have learned the art of courting a woman. Apparently not, as I listened to my niece who was on the brink of pushing this man over the cliff.
"How do you handle a loathsome, vainglorious and obviously maladjusted jerk? Add to that, a fumbling, so-full-of-himself idiot!" (Actually, my niece liked this poor fellow except that she was getting increasingly frustrated by his lackadaisical pace at making the first move). "As if I ought to do the courting, no?" she lamented.
That’s difficult, but let’s begin by taking deep breaths. Hum a mantra, close your eyes, let tension leave your body, and relax while I flick through the file in my head for an answer.
"Why not tell him the truth?" I suggested. "Tell him, ‘We are getting too old for this she-loves-me, she-loves-me-not rigmarole. After all, you’re 39 and he’s 41. Nothing beats pure albeit brutal honesty. Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for and that might still make two lovers out of friends."
In the ‘60s, the boys met the girls on the dance floor. It was a very awkward and embarrassing setup. Definitely the girls got the short end of the straw. They were made to sit in a row like cold meat in a butcher shop and waited for the combo or the band to play. The boys gathered in a corner at a distance, sizing up the girls. When the music started, it was a free-for-all as each boy tried to the next one to extend a hand to the girl of his fancy. If he was lucky, he’d end up dancing with her. If she liked him, she’d continue to dance with him. When the band switched to a slow drag, that was his chance to ask for her phone number. If she truly, truly liked him, she’d whisper her number to his ear. If she was just being polite, she’d give a wrong number!
The other alternative is the bakuran or fencing strategy. The boy would literally stand inches away from where the girl was sitting (usually the acknowledged crush-ng-bayan) and block anybody else from asking her to dance. That would be the height of flattery for the girl especially when the boy was drop-dead gorgeous, was on the dean’s list, too.
What if no one asked you for a dance? Pray for an earthquake. The floor beneath you would open up to swallow you whole and keep your pride intact. Don’t forget that frilly fan that you can wave vigorously to give the false semblance of exhaustion (from sitting?). The fan was actually a face-saver. You were also truthfully fanning away the beads of perspiration that was slowly forming on your forehead as a result of your sheer discomfort at being inducted to the Wallflower Hall of Shame.
In our mother’s time, a woman would drop a hanky to send the signal that she wanted to be followed. The favored male ought to have gotten the hint to pick up the hanky, give it back to her and hopefully bold enough to ask for her address.
Again the fan (Spanish, Japanese or anahaw) played a pivotal role. If she used it energetically, it meant she was getting impatient or she was venting her frustration on the fan and was imagining that it was made of sharp blades to cut off the suitor’s throat for being such a slowpoke.
The Filipinos have also discarded the harana (serenade) for lack of balconies and terraces to sing to their lady love. The blame rests on the condominiums and high-rise apartels that have done away with this romantic architectural structure.
But how should one go a-courting? You don’t have to set out at early dawn to do it. You don’t have to fetch pails of water either. You just need lots of imagination and patience.
Begin by sending little gifts, token gifts. A bar of chocolate, a rose bud and for practical reasons, a healthy sandwich during merienda or lunch time. But do let the lady know it came from you. There’s nothing more irritating than to get gifts and not know who the giver was.
During our courtship days, my husband was overcome by shyness to make his feelings known so he’d give chocolates but would distribute them to all the ladies in my office. No one knew exactly who he was targeting and surprisingly, no one bothered to ask since everybody benefited from it.
Think of unusual gifts. A heart-shaped ice cream cake in her favorite flavor, a pair of love birds transported in a floral, ceramic bird cage, a music box that plays her favorite love song, a basket full of fresh catch from the sea, a couplet of his romantic thoughts and rhetoric, a DVD collection of all the immortal love stories, from Greta Garbo’s Camille, to Vivian Leigh’s Gone with the Wind, Meg Ryan’s When Harry Met Sally, Renée Zellweger’s Jerry McGuire, and Meet Joe Black, An Affair to Remember, Some Like It Hot and Out of Africa.
Call her on the phone as often as you can. Wait! My daughter interjects. Text her on her mobile phone.
Ask her for a convenient date and time to visit her at her house. No! My daughter protested. Go to her house but only to meet her parents and then ask her to a movie or to a restaurant or a coffee bar. Gone were the days when the suitor had to spend the afternoon in the girl’s house talking, listening to long-playing records and just being there gazing into her eyes.
Get to know her close friends and get on their good side. Be available when they plan weekend trips to the beach, to a theme park or even out of town. Not quite, my daughter cuts in. It can be a painting session, or a book club reading session, or an unbelievably cheap "no frills" holiday to Bangkok, Singapore or Hong Kong.
Don’t forget your manners. Open the door for her when she arrives, help her to her seat, face and shield her from traffic when crossing the street. If you extended an invitation, pick up the tab no matter how financially liberated she may be. Bring her home before her curfew and never, never past the allowed time.
Be honest with your feelings and do not be afraid to tell her so. Hmmm, my daughter has stayed quiet. That can only mean one thing.
No matter what generation you were born in, the one common criterion for courting a girl is honesty. She deserves it.
Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if you listened to the lyrics of an old, baby-boomer ditty that said, "Tell her you care each time you meet, make it her birthday each day of the week. Bring her nice things, sugar and spice things, roses and lollipops, etc."
The test of genuine love is time. If you can still do the above when your eyes see double, when blue veins have popped up your wrists and when the normal color of your hair has turned from jet black to Henna-induced black, if you can relate to the Beatles song, "When I grow older, losing my hair, many years from now, will you still be sending me Valentines, birthday greetings, bottle of wine? When I go out ‘til quarter to three, will you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64?" then you would have indeed mastered the art of courtship.
"How do you handle a loathsome, vainglorious and obviously maladjusted jerk? Add to that, a fumbling, so-full-of-himself idiot!" (Actually, my niece liked this poor fellow except that she was getting increasingly frustrated by his lackadaisical pace at making the first move). "As if I ought to do the courting, no?" she lamented.
That’s difficult, but let’s begin by taking deep breaths. Hum a mantra, close your eyes, let tension leave your body, and relax while I flick through the file in my head for an answer.
"Why not tell him the truth?" I suggested. "Tell him, ‘We are getting too old for this she-loves-me, she-loves-me-not rigmarole. After all, you’re 39 and he’s 41. Nothing beats pure albeit brutal honesty. Maybe that’s what he’s waiting for and that might still make two lovers out of friends."
In the ‘60s, the boys met the girls on the dance floor. It was a very awkward and embarrassing setup. Definitely the girls got the short end of the straw. They were made to sit in a row like cold meat in a butcher shop and waited for the combo or the band to play. The boys gathered in a corner at a distance, sizing up the girls. When the music started, it was a free-for-all as each boy tried to the next one to extend a hand to the girl of his fancy. If he was lucky, he’d end up dancing with her. If she liked him, she’d continue to dance with him. When the band switched to a slow drag, that was his chance to ask for her phone number. If she truly, truly liked him, she’d whisper her number to his ear. If she was just being polite, she’d give a wrong number!
The other alternative is the bakuran or fencing strategy. The boy would literally stand inches away from where the girl was sitting (usually the acknowledged crush-ng-bayan) and block anybody else from asking her to dance. That would be the height of flattery for the girl especially when the boy was drop-dead gorgeous, was on the dean’s list, too.
What if no one asked you for a dance? Pray for an earthquake. The floor beneath you would open up to swallow you whole and keep your pride intact. Don’t forget that frilly fan that you can wave vigorously to give the false semblance of exhaustion (from sitting?). The fan was actually a face-saver. You were also truthfully fanning away the beads of perspiration that was slowly forming on your forehead as a result of your sheer discomfort at being inducted to the Wallflower Hall of Shame.
In our mother’s time, a woman would drop a hanky to send the signal that she wanted to be followed. The favored male ought to have gotten the hint to pick up the hanky, give it back to her and hopefully bold enough to ask for her address.
Again the fan (Spanish, Japanese or anahaw) played a pivotal role. If she used it energetically, it meant she was getting impatient or she was venting her frustration on the fan and was imagining that it was made of sharp blades to cut off the suitor’s throat for being such a slowpoke.
The Filipinos have also discarded the harana (serenade) for lack of balconies and terraces to sing to their lady love. The blame rests on the condominiums and high-rise apartels that have done away with this romantic architectural structure.
But how should one go a-courting? You don’t have to set out at early dawn to do it. You don’t have to fetch pails of water either. You just need lots of imagination and patience.
Begin by sending little gifts, token gifts. A bar of chocolate, a rose bud and for practical reasons, a healthy sandwich during merienda or lunch time. But do let the lady know it came from you. There’s nothing more irritating than to get gifts and not know who the giver was.
During our courtship days, my husband was overcome by shyness to make his feelings known so he’d give chocolates but would distribute them to all the ladies in my office. No one knew exactly who he was targeting and surprisingly, no one bothered to ask since everybody benefited from it.
Think of unusual gifts. A heart-shaped ice cream cake in her favorite flavor, a pair of love birds transported in a floral, ceramic bird cage, a music box that plays her favorite love song, a basket full of fresh catch from the sea, a couplet of his romantic thoughts and rhetoric, a DVD collection of all the immortal love stories, from Greta Garbo’s Camille, to Vivian Leigh’s Gone with the Wind, Meg Ryan’s When Harry Met Sally, Renée Zellweger’s Jerry McGuire, and Meet Joe Black, An Affair to Remember, Some Like It Hot and Out of Africa.
Call her on the phone as often as you can. Wait! My daughter interjects. Text her on her mobile phone.
Ask her for a convenient date and time to visit her at her house. No! My daughter protested. Go to her house but only to meet her parents and then ask her to a movie or to a restaurant or a coffee bar. Gone were the days when the suitor had to spend the afternoon in the girl’s house talking, listening to long-playing records and just being there gazing into her eyes.
Get to know her close friends and get on their good side. Be available when they plan weekend trips to the beach, to a theme park or even out of town. Not quite, my daughter cuts in. It can be a painting session, or a book club reading session, or an unbelievably cheap "no frills" holiday to Bangkok, Singapore or Hong Kong.
Don’t forget your manners. Open the door for her when she arrives, help her to her seat, face and shield her from traffic when crossing the street. If you extended an invitation, pick up the tab no matter how financially liberated she may be. Bring her home before her curfew and never, never past the allowed time.
Be honest with your feelings and do not be afraid to tell her so. Hmmm, my daughter has stayed quiet. That can only mean one thing.
No matter what generation you were born in, the one common criterion for courting a girl is honesty. She deserves it.
Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if you listened to the lyrics of an old, baby-boomer ditty that said, "Tell her you care each time you meet, make it her birthday each day of the week. Bring her nice things, sugar and spice things, roses and lollipops, etc."
The test of genuine love is time. If you can still do the above when your eyes see double, when blue veins have popped up your wrists and when the normal color of your hair has turned from jet black to Henna-induced black, if you can relate to the Beatles song, "When I grow older, losing my hair, many years from now, will you still be sending me Valentines, birthday greetings, bottle of wine? When I go out ‘til quarter to three, will you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64?" then you would have indeed mastered the art of courtship.
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