Posted on 07/10/2002 8:26:26 AM PDT by Korth
Self-confessed hapless singleton Adam Lusher reports on a new agency that aims to help men survive the difficult world of dating
All heads turn as the beautiful blonde walks into the wine bar. Waiters sneak admiring glances, while male patrons discreetly scan the bar for her companion - desperately hoping there isn't one.
As she approaches, I feel poised, calm, attractive even. I think I manage to flash a winning smile.
"Jennifer?" "Adam. Good to meet you at last. Now, engage my interest."
I gulp. The ensuing conversation lasts five minutes. It feels like five years. I learn that Jennifer, last name Marr, comes from a farming family, likes the countryside, loves hill walking, and finds my questions "incredibly arrogant".
I discover, too, a stutter I never knew I had. The bar staff, I am convinced, are playing tricks with the air conditioning. Surely Jennifer can't fail to notice the beads of sweat forming on my brow? Her interest seems anything but "engaged". And then it happens. She leans forward, a pair of exquisite green eyes stare deep into mine and she whispers: "You were atrocious. There was no flirtation, no physical contact. You didn't put me at ease at all.
"You need to show concern, to enquire, to probe women and listen to their emotional outpourings. You ignored all that. Your body language - so uptight.
There was worse to come. "Adam, you have got 60 seconds. When a woman meets a man she wants to see a sparkle in his eyes. It speaks more than thousands of words. Women like a bit of flirtation; there has to be some foreplay. With you, there was none at all. You went straight into interviewing me. Marks out of 10? Er, two."
My poise collapses. Those who possess lonely hearts - who have tried the personal columns and failed miserably with countless self-help books - will be all too familiar with the feeling. Shaken, I thank God that this is just a "dummy date". Help for those, like me, who quake in the presence of a new date, is now at hand.
For a hefty fee, men with a string of failed romances littering their past can pay to take Jennifer Marr and her colleagues - Kirsty, "very sultry", or Janice, "a Julia Roberts lookalike" - on a practice date to find out exactly where they are going wrong.
The concept will be familiar to viewers of the BBC programme Would Like To Meet on which hapless romantics are sent on dummy dates while a series of "experts" groom them for success with secrets such as The Sparkle in the Eye. (It's all about confidence and "a genuine passion for life", apparently.)
Wealthy businessmen are telephoning Jennifer's Dummy Dates Agency in Edinburgh for the same kind of help without the added humiliation of television. Clients are given a two-and-a-half hour initial consultation and a simulated date. Then they embark on a course of five more dates and are given advice on what clothes to wear and, if necessary, taken on a shopping trip to restock their wardrobes. There's even a psychologist to help with "any sexual problems".
The agency's fees vary from £600 to £900 depending, to put it quite bluntly, says Jennifer, "on how messed up the guy is". Sometimes, though, the would-be suitor doesn't even get to first base.
"They can be so nervous, mumble so much on the answer machine, that we can't hear their details. And we do turn people away. Basically, our clients are really lovely guys who just don't have any confidence. If you are just a little bit insecure with women, we can turn you around. If you are really depressed, really psychologically messed up, then we can't help you."
Jennifer, 30, fixes me with a meaningful look. I don't quite know why. I ask what she means. "John was a 38-year-old stockbroker who hadn't had a relationship since the age of 26. He ended up fixated, falling in love with me, basically. I hired Kirsty and Janice to make that less likely to happen again."
Then, of course, there was "Gary", one of the earliest clients, and certainly the most memorable. "He was incredible. When I first met him, I thought it was a complete wind up.
"He was about 30 and wealthy, but he turned up in one of the best bars in Glasgow with what can only be described as the trainspotter look. He wore an anorak, spectacles, his eyes were downcast and he hadn't shaved for three days. You would ask him a question, and wait 45 seconds for an answer. We had to explain that women weren't telepathic, they didn't know he was thinking about the question, and they'd quite like a quicker response."
Thanks to the Dummy Dates Agency, Gary now has a girlfriend. But what is he wearing, these days? Jennifer smiles, triumphantly. "A jacket and a shirt, no tie - much the kind of thing that you're wearing, Adam."
I take it as a compliment. Foolishly. Within seconds I am ordered to stand up. "The shoes are awful. Polish them? No, ditch them. Get new ones.
"What is this suit? A £90 job? And the colour? Charcoal grey? You need something much lighter, to match your eyes, and for goodness sake cut that fringe. Make your hair short and spiky. Why are you cultivating a Tim Henman look?"
I blush. My Barratts shoes, bought in a rainstorm when my own were letting in water, had always seemed perfectly serviceable. To onlookers, I must admit, we must seem a mismatched pair. Jennifer - poised, oozing confidence, utterly at home in the elegant wine bar of Glasgow's Malmaison hotel and just a trifle intimidating - is the epitome of stylish chic.
I decide to move on, to "enquire", to "probe". Maybe it is the third glass of wine or perhaps Jennifer's attentive manner, but I find myself mumbling my way through the litany of my dating disasters. The response is startling. Suddenly, for the first time, Jennifer is touching my arm, her eyes wide with interest. "Oh Adam, you'll be fine, honestly. You are speaking with your eyes. You have been hurt in the past, haven't you?" she says. This is working, I realise. I ask her about herself. Miss Marr, the worldly, well-spoken Dummy Dater, it transpires, had really wanted to be a nun. "I went to the Sacred Heart Convent School in Roscrea, County Tipperary," she says. "I even went on pilgrimmage to Israel, but then I discovered boys."
After selling church candles at a Cambridge market stall, Jennifer progressed to counselling. She is in the process of setting up in business formally, but already has 15 clients on her books, some as far away as Dublin. Dummy dating began about three years ago as a hobby for Jennifer and her London "socialite" friend, Emma, "because it was a bit of a giggle and because we were meeting all these high-powered men and feeling sorry for them".
"There are really successful businessmen who are literally terrified of modern women," she adds. "They spend all day in the office, leave at 9pm, put something in the microwave and collapse. It's deliberate avoidance. Because they fear an emotional entanglement, a relationship with the opposite sex, they put all their energies into work."
Jennifer sends me another of her disarming looks, and smiles. "I do have great empathy for men. I love men. They fix plugs."
I am not convinced. But the genders are becoming insane, I wail. "Yes," she says, "the women are high fliers now, they can call the shots. They are becoming power-mad aggressors, and the men are retreating.
"Programmes like Sex in The City don't help, do they? The women now want you to be New Man and Old Man. They are now saying 'You can't just come home with a wage packet any longer. Impress us more - or forget it. You have got to look sexy, you have got to stimulate us mentally, listen to us, show concern about our lives. You have got to turn us on.' Brutal, isn't it?"
The flight instinct is now almost overpowering. And if I wasn't scared enough already, Jennifer goes on to explain a bit about what the initial assessment entails. "We ask clients about their childhood, about their mothers. Nearly always they have had a domineering mother - or they have had very few relationships and been rejected. I don't know if the male ego is more fragile than the female, but it seems that when a guy is left by a woman he can't recover very well from it."
Jennifer claims that she has even helped "sensitive" businessmen who have suffered the "double insult": coming home to find their wife, an older woman, in bed with a younger man.
"Society tells them that regardless of what they do in business, they are only really successful as people if they achieve success with women. We are basically just turning the tables, building them up, telling them 'you are successful, and you are going to be complete with these tips.' "
At last. What are these tips? Confidence, and avoiding chat-up lines if possible. The killer tactic, though, is this "enquiring" and "probing" about emotions. And, very importantly, wait until you know a woman really well, until she trusts you, before introducing the subject of football.
"The most important thing you can offer a woman is genuine interest in her private life. Don't just pass over what she says to monologue about what car you drive or football. Ask questions. Women love it. They love interest in their emotional past and present.
"Ask any of my girlfriends and they will say the same. Probing is the ultimate compliment. When a person is probing it is quite sexual, it is a turn-on. You know they are genuinely interested in you."
When I finally stop writing in my notebook, I ask Jennifer whether, by imparting these secrets, she is letting loose a bunch of cads on the world? "Adam, we're offering you six dates, not six years," she says.
The afternoon draws on. My conversation has been described as "atrocious", my demeanour "uptight", my dress sense exposed as "recovering trainspotter". Jennifer, though, seems to be laughing more now. I could have sworn that a few minutes ago there was that all important sparkle in her eye when she said that she had split with Tony, "a bit of a wealthy playboy" who has been her boyfriend of four years, and was "looking to ensnare a new man now".
Perhaps this probing thing really does work. Is her interest finally engaged? Actually, yes. Jennifer leans across the table. "No, seriously, you are very strong, very spiritual. You are happy in your work, very individual."
I look into her eyes. She is not looking into mine. She has saved the biggest insult until last: I hate it when they flirt with the waiter.
The Dummy Dates Agency can be contacted on 07980 346470
At least Janice is not a Julia Roberts thinkalike... oh wait.
Liberals don't think. They can only feel.
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