Love rules

In Competition No. 2785 you were invited to submit poetic advice on how to woo a member of either sex. What better instructor can there be than Ovid, whose Ars amatoria gives guidance on the art of romantic conquest that knocks modern seduction manuals such as The Rules into a cocked hat. Two sections are addressed to men on how to get your girl and how to keep her, and one to women on how to hook your man. There are tips on personal hygiene (Don’t let those long hairs sprout/ In your nostrils. . .’) as well as on the bestowal of compliments and much else. You didn’t quite match the master’s lightness of touch, but it was a fine entry. The best earn £20; overall champ Chris O’Carroll takes £25.

Behold him ready to be captivated.
He’s not a complicated creature; he
Entertains hopes that, even though X-rated,
Are ABC in their simplicity.
Despite some popular disinformation,
His stomach’s not the prime route to his heart.
His anatomical preoccupation
Is with a lower situated part.
A cordon bleu job’s not what he likes best,
And what he wants well laid’s not just his table.
So doff your chef’s toque, then take off the rest
To serve the sweetest pudding you are able.
The gourmet treats for which he’s chiefly itchin’
Are cooked up in a room that’s not the kitchen.
Chris O’Carroll
 
Courtship should be a slow dance, not a sprint,
Much less a mugging. Lovers, temporise
Or risk backfires. Be sure a mellow glint,
Not jungle lust, illuminates your eyes.
Be patient, passive even, egoless,
Await her wishes, let desire ferment
By slowly rising warmth until — success!
Your fund of patience can’t be better spent.
Let cliché-mongers parrot old Marvell,
Expecting quick results from honeyed words.
The clued-up modern woman knows damn well
Such casuistic pleas are for the birds.
Forget the macho-man’s gorilla lunge.
Unlearn the slick seducer’s dated shtick.
Cupid rewards the empathetic sponge,
Kind and attentive, never kiss-me-quick.