London – On a wet Tuesday, I am hovering furtively in the fresh produce section of Sainsbury’s. But my absorption in the merits of Golden Delicious and Washington Reds is but a cunning charade. I’m really on a mission.
I have just received four hours of tuition in the art of flirting from relationship coach Jean Smith and I’m here to put my skills to the test .
Spotting a middle-aged victim, I sidle up and deliver the line suggested by Jean to provoke conversation.
‘Um,’ I begin magnificently. ‘Have you tried that kind of apple before?’
The man gives no sign of noticing that I have spoken. I clear my throat and repeat myself. He looks up vaguely, and responds: ‘Mmm?’
I say the words for a third time. He stares at me, shakes his head and ambles off.
Clearly, I’m in need of more practice.
Flirting has been Jean’s specialist subject for more than a decade, after doing a masters degree in social anthropology. Not only has she produced an entire book on the subject (The Flirt Interpreter), but she runs ‘Flirtology’ courses.
It has to be said that they’re not cheap. There’s a two-session Quick Fix for £299 (about R5 250); a three-session promotion called Bag A Babe For Valentine’s (‘babe’ referring to either sex) at £399; and a three-month Ready For Change programme at £900.
Each one promises to identify where you are going wrong and give you a game plan to find your future partner.
As a 51-year-old divorcee who has been single for a year, I give it a go. And I’m not the only one - business is booming for Jean, whose clients’ age range spans from the early 30s to the mid 50s.
‘I’m busier all the time, not because it’s harder to flirt these days, but because it’s become more acceptable to ask for help,’ she says. ‘People are just expected to know this stuff, and they think everyone else is born good at it.’
Indeed, the boom in online dating and the rise of so-called ‘silver splitters’, who divorce in midlife, means more of us than ever are struggling on the dating scene: one in five women over 45 is now single.
‘Clients appreciate a scientific approach. Flirting is a skill - you can learn it. I’m a catalyst to set people on track - it’s up to them to act on it,’ Jean says.
My four hours with her are a condensed version of one of her courses. Judging by her central London flat where we met for the first two hours, she is doing very nicely.
Jean asks what I’m looking for, ushering me away from ‘objectifying laundry lists’ such as height, weight and income.
This is not to say she advocates hooking up with a short, fat pauper. But she urges me not to rule out someone just because I prefer taller men: ‘It’s holding you back. How much of your life are you standing up next to each other?’
Then she asks what I’m doing to improve my chances of meeting someone, and suggests a big party where everybody brings a single friend, adding: ‘You need to spend more time in places where you can start up conversations without expectations.’
This, it turns out, is largely what Jean’s ‘flirtology’ is about - not being coquettish, but simply going to places where there are other people, and talking to them. The idea is meeting as many potential partners as possible in the hope one will click. It’s a numbers game, but one you can only embark on if you’re confident enough - which is what Jean hopes to teach.
She has also devised an unlikely acronym for six flirting signals to look for. ‘It’s HOT APE - Humour, open body-language, touch, attention, proximity and eye contact. That’s what you look for to tell someone is flirting with you. Also self-disclosure – they tell you something about themselves.’
She tells me flirting is building rapport with strangers, with a frisson in the undertone to distinguish it from normal conversation.
‘British people don’t like intrusion, but they love to be talked to,’ says Jean. ‘My clients can be worried about bothering people. I teach you to break these unwritten rules about being polite which make it so hard to meet people.
‘Would you be offended if you were at the supermarket and someone asked you: “Have you ever tried that kind of apple before?” ’
She seems astonished when I say I might be a tad surprised. ‘It’s only by trying it in a fun way that you’ll realise people respond really well,’ she replies brightly.
I fear I’m not very good at this after being turned down in Sainsbury’s. Jean tells me I am ‘resistant’ to my ‘dating journey’, relating an anecdote about a client who asked a guy in a supermarket what rice he would recommend. ‘After a ten-minute chat, he invited her to his favourite curry house,’ she concludes triumphantly. I’m awed that anyone could have a ten-minute conversation about rice.
But she is also very good at matters relating to rejection.
‘What does it matter if the person you’re talking to doesn’t engage? You’ve had a nice chat with someone you’ll never meet again.’
Some clients vouch for Jean’s methods. Laura Durham, a 28-year-old from London who works in marketing, describes Jean’s seminar last September as ‘life-changing’.
‘I had a two-year relationship which ended six years ago, and had only been on a few dates since,’ she says. ‘I was feeling hopeless because I find it so hard to initiate contact.
‘It’s made such a difference to my confidence to be able to talk to people without worrying I would do something wrong.’
Laura loved the £35 Fearless Flirting tour, a two-hour group outing starting at the National Portrait Gallery ‘where you will learn how to approach anyone without fear’.
So I join one of these outings.
Seven women and one man assemble, aged from their mid 20s to mid 50s, all sociable and attractive. James Hardcastle, a 35-year-old software developer, is the lone male.
Jean tells us to make eye contact with and smile at three fellow gallery goers. Again I don’t have the knack, resembling a crazed escapee. Others find it easy.
Then Jean dispatches us into a local Tesco to strike up conversation about groceries, telling us one client was so successful in a chat over cheesecake that the guy asked her out and they dated for three months.
Unfortunately there are hardly any shoppers. I attempt a conversation about light bulbs with someone who it turns out cannot speak English. Or so he claims.
We move on to a busy market to accost strangers for restaurant recommendations, and eventually adjourn to a bar. Everyone has enjoyed it, and James has even bagged a phone number.
It turns out he is on Jean’s £900, three-month course. He has been single for several years, and I genuinely cannot work out why.
‘I have loads of friends but nothing seems to spark beyond that,’ he says. ‘I’ve done online dating and met one crazy person after another. I must be doing something wrong.’
Actually, it turns out Jean’s goal may not coincide with James’s. ‘It’s not completely hooked on the end result of having a partner, more about realising the great things in what you already have,’ she says.
And as bonkers as this course can seem, that’s a valuable lesson.
The real thing she teaches is not flirting, but having the confidence to flirt. If you see someone attractive. Don’t contemplate talking to them. Do it, without worrying what they will think or whether they are single.
‘If he’s not single and you’re just having a friendly chat, is it inappropriate?’ says Jean.
When I say I am going to the theatre that night, she tells me that in the bar at the interval, I must say to the man of my choice: ‘That looks an interesting drink. What is it?’
That night at the theatre bar I find myself next to a reasonable-looking man. He orders water.
Sometimes, life just isn’t on my side.
Jean’s three flirting secrets:
1 If you see someone attractive, show signals of approachability – eye contact, open body language, smiles
2 Ask an open-ended situational question involving a prop (so in a supermarket: ‘That cheesecake looks great – have you tried it?’)
3 Don’t worry about taking the direct approach. At the worst you’ve had a short conversation with someone you’ll never see again. At best – who knows?
Daily Mail