by Kate Fox
FLIRTING RULES
There is nearly always a tiny grain of truth in stereotypes of national character, and the notion that the English are sexually inhibited is, I’m afraid, quite accurate. We may be as competent and, indeed, as passionate as anyone else, once we actually get into bed, but the process of getting there is often awkward and inept.
The idea that our inhibitions stem from lack of interest in sex, however, is mistaken. We may find the subject embarrassing, but the English have a keen interest in sex. In particular, thanks to the forbidden-fruit effect of our privacy rules, we have a prurient, insatiable fascination with other people’s sex lives, only partially assuaged by a constant stream of sex scandals and kiss-and-tell stories in our tabloid newspapers and on the internet.
Our interest in our own sex lives ensures that we do our best to overcome our inhibitions, and if we are somewhat inept at flirtation, it is certainly not for want of practice. I have conducted two big studies on flirting among the English and, in the most recent, only one per cent of survey respondents – aged eighteen to forty – said that they ‘never flirted’, and over a third had flirted with someone ‘today’ or ‘within the past week’. You would, of course, get much the same result in any other country, as flirting is a ‘human universal’, a basic instinct, without which our species would have become extinct a long time ago. If some evolutionary psychologists are to be believed, flirting may even be the foundation of civilisation as we know it. They argue that the large human brain – our complex language, superior intelligence, culture, everything that distinguishes us from animals – is our equivalent of the peacock’s tail: a courtship device evolved to attract and retain sexual partners. If this theory – which I jokingly call the ‘chat-up theory of human evolution’ – is correct, human achievements in everything from art to literature to rocket science may be merely a side effect of the essential ability to charm.
The idea of NASA, Hamlet and the Mona Lisa as accidental by-products of primeval chat-ups might seem somewhat far-fetched, but it is clear that evolution favours flirts. The most skilful charmers among our distant ancestors were the most likely to attract mates and pass on their charming genes. We are descended from a long line of successful flirts, and the flirting instinct is hard-wired into our brains. Even when modern humans are not engaged in mate-selection, we still flirt: all of us practise two types of flirting, which for shorthand I call ‘flirting with intent’ (flirting designed to lead to mating, and possibly pair-bonding) and ‘recreational flirting’ (flirting for fun, for other social reasons, or perhaps just for practice). Homo sapiens is, by nature, a compulsive flirt.
So, the English are genetically programmed to flirt, just like everyone else, and we probably do about as much of it as everyone else. It’s just that we do not do it with the same degree of skill, ease or assurance. Or, rather, about 50 per cent of us are noticeably deficient in these qualities. If you look more closely at the stereotype of the sexually challenged English, it is the English male who is most often singled out for criticism and ridicule in this department. A few of the standard jokes and quips allude to the supposed frigidity or ignorance of the English female, but the vast majority are about the alleged impotence, indifference or incompetence of English males. These failings of English men are often assumed to account for any sexual inadequacies or shortcomings among their frustrated women-folk. In the early eighteenth century, a Swiss commentator110 described English women as ‘little spoilt by the attentions of men who give but a small part of their time to them. Indeed most men prefer wine and gaming to women, in this they are more to blame as women are much better than the wine in England.’ Many of my own foreign informants made much the same kind of remarks, although they substituted beer for wine, and did not complain about the quality of English beer.
The first two of these charges against English males – impotence and indifference – are unfounded and unfair; they are not based on fact or direct observation, but mainly on an impression created by the third defect of which English men stand accused: incompetence in the art of seduction. ‘Englishmen seem little made for gallantry,’ observed our Swiss critic, ‘they know no mean between complete familiarity and respectful silence.’ The average English male may be highly sexed, but he is not, it must be said, an accomplished flirt. He is not at his best when confronted with what one of my male informants called ‘a female person of the opposite species’.111 He is usually either reticent, tongue-tied and awkward, or, at worst, boorish, crass and clumsy.112 In the belief that it will help him to shed his inhibitions, he tends to consume large quantities of alcohol: this merely results in a shift from awkward, tongue-tied reticence to crass, clumsy boorishness. From the perspective of the unfortunate English female, this is not much of an improvement – unless her own judgement is severely impaired, as it often is, by a similar quantity of alcohol, in which case chat-up lines such as ‘Er, fancy a shag?’ may seem like the height of wit and eloquence.
And there, in a nutshell, or rather a bottle, is the answer to the mystery of how the English manage to reproduce. All right, I’m exaggerating – but only a little. The role of alcohol in the passing on of English DNA should not be underestimated.
The SAS Test
There are other factors, of course. As part of a public-spirited effort to help the English improve their seduction skills, I once devised a test, based on extensive field research, to locate the best ‘flirting zones’ – the social settings most conducive to enjoyable and successful flirtation in this culture; I called it the ‘SAS test’. SAS stands for Sociability (by which I mean specifically the acceptability and ease of initiating conversation with strangers), Alcohol (an essential flirting aid among the inhibited English) and Shared-interest (environments in which people have interests in common, or a shared focus – settings likely to have the kind of props and facilitators that help the English to overcome their social dis-ease). The results of my application of this test provide some insights into English flirting habits and the unwritten rules of mate-seeking in English culture.
Pubs
Pubs and bars, which seem at first glance like prime candidates, actually only pass two elements of the test – Sociability and Alcohol – failing on ‘Shared interest’. In English pubs and bars, striking up a conversation with an attractive stranger is permitted by the unwritten rules (although subject to certain restrictions and caveats), but the lack of an obvious common interest means that one still has to struggle to think of something to talk about. Generic English etiquette provides a universally acceptable subject in the weather, but without a shared focus of interest, the introductory process still requires considerable effort.
Having said that, one survey showed that 27 per cent of us first met our current partner in a pub, so it is clearly an effort we are prepared to make. My own observation studies and interviews with English pubgoers, however, indicate that the majority of these pairings were probably not the result of someone approaching a complete stranger, cold, at the bar counter, but rather of people being introduced, albeit informally, by friends or acquaintances, the encounter happening to take place in the pub because that is where the English spend a great deal of their time and do much of their socialising.
Clubbers and the ‘No Sex Please, We’re Too Cool’ Rule
Night-clubs score somewhat higher on the Shared-interest factor than pubs and bars, as clubbers usually share a common interest in music. In any case, the problem of initiating conversation is reduced by the volume at which the music is played, which restricts verbal communication to a few monosyllabic shouted exchanges, allowing clubbers to flirt mainly through non-verbal channels. With very high scores on Sociability and Alcohol, night-clubs should in theory be near the top of my English flirt-zone league table. And most of them are, but there is a curious and apparently perverse unwritten rule among a significant minority of young English clubbers whereby dancing – and by extension clubbing in general – is regarded as an asexual activity. At least,
this is true of the many clubbers who favour EDM (electronic dance music – the various forms of house, trance, etc., mentioned in Dress Codes, page 398). Their focus is on group bonding, and the euphoric, almost transcendental experience of becoming one with the music and the crowd (which sounds like a version of what anthropologists call ‘communitas’ or ‘collective effervescence’ – an intense, intimate, liberating kind of group bonding, experienced only in ‘liminal’ states). They take great exception to any suggestion that they might be there for the vulgar, crass purpose of ‘pulling’.
In a national survey, for example, only six per cent of these clubbers admitted that ‘meeting prospective sexual partners’ was an important part of ‘dance events’ for them. This finding strikes me as an instance of what we researchers call the Social Desirability Bias. You will remember that the SDB is ‘a standard error on self-report measures due to respondents attempting to present themselves in a socially desirable light’ – in other words: lying. In the clubber survey, we can tell that the respondents were being a bit economical with the truth, as responses to other questions revealed that over half of them had had sex with ‘someone they met at a dance event’, which suggests that meeting prospective sexual partners was perhaps a more important element of clubbing than they were prepared to acknowledge.
The SDB can be quite useful, though, as a consistent pattern of such ‘socially desirable’ responses can indicate an unwritten social rule or norm within a group or subculture. In this case, it seems pretty clear to me that among some young English clubbers, particularly those who regard themselves and their musical tastes as ‘non-mainstream’, there is an unspoken ‘no sex please, we’re too cool’ rule. It is considered deeply ‘uncool’ to go clubbing to meet prospective partners, so clubbers will naturally be reluctant to admit to this motive. If they should happen to end up in bed with someone they met while out clubbing, this is a fortuitous by-product of the evening’s entertainment, not something they set out to achieve. The ‘no sex please’ rule seems to be honoured more in speech than in observance. We pretend not to be too interested in sex, but we still manage accidentally-on-purpose to have quite a lot of sex. More of that lovely English hypocrisy.
I found that gay clubbers tend to be rather more open and honest than straight clubbers about their interest in sex: although some subscribe to the ‘no sex please, we’re too cool’ rule, the majority candidly admit that flirtation, mate-selection and sex are important elements of clubbing for them. Aficionados of other currently popular music genres (such as hip-hop, R&B and rock) are also much less likely to subscribe to these asexual, euphoric-group-bonding norms than the EDM clubbers. They are far more overtly sexual in their behaviour and dance styles, and, like the gay clubbers, more likely to admit that flirting and mate-seeking are important motivations.
Parties
Private parties and celebrations generally score high on Alcohol, but vary on Sociability: although it is officially acceptable to strike up a conversation with a stranger at a private party, this is still, for most of us, awkward and uncomfortable, so we tend to stay in little huddles with people we already know. Parties are redeemed, however, by scoring a bit higher than pubs, bars and night-clubs on Shared interest, as the guests generally have at least one helpful thing in common: their relationship with the hosts. This can provide enough conversation-fodder (of the ‘So, how do you know Sarah, then?’ variety) to get us through the inevitable English difficulties with introductions.
Workplaces
Both ‘flirting with intent’ and ‘recreational flirting’ are common in most English offices and other workplaces. Surveys have found that about 20 per cent of us meet our spouses or current sexual partners at work, and some research findings show that flirting is good for relieving workplace anxiety and stress: the playful atmosphere created by flirtatious banter helps to reduce friction, and exchanges of compliments boost self-esteem.
We knew that, of course, but it needs saying, as workplace flirting may be under threat from puritanical influences imported from America, where flirting has been officially banned in many offices and other workplaces (an ‘unsustainable’ move on the part of the political-correctness lobby, as attempts to forbid behaviours that are as deeply ingrained in the human psyche as flirting are doomed to failure). At the moment, workplaces are still among the better flirting zones in England. Technically, they only pass two elements of the SAS test, as alcohol is not commonly available in offices or factories, but in practice work colleagues tend to find opportunities to drink together – and workplaces score very highly on the Sociability and Shared-interest factors. Training courses, sales conferences, academic conferences and other such work-related excursions and gatherings were highlighted by my English informants as particularly conducive to flirting, combining all the benefits of common interests and ease of sociable communication with the added lubricant of celebratory drinking.
In the English workplace itself, however, flirting is usually acceptable only in certain areas, with certain people and at specific times or occasions. Each workplace has its own unwritten etiquette governing flirtatious behaviour. In some companies, I found that the coffee machine, photocopier or cafeteria was the unofficial ‘designated flirting zone’. In one it was a balcony mainly used by smokers, who often tend to be more sociable than non-smokers, or at least have a sense of defiant solidarity. One woman told me that she was a non-smoker, but pretended to smoke, because the smokers were ‘more fun to hang out with’. I have already mentioned the ‘smoking exception’ to the contact-avoidance rules in public places, where cigarettes have increasingly become, for this marginalised minority, a highly effective prop, facilitating social interaction between strangers. They can be equally effective as facilitators of flirtation between co-workers – again with that ‘causal’ connection whereby one illicit activity prompts or enables another.
Learning-places
Almost all educational establishments are hot-beds of flirting. This is mainly because they are full of young single people making their first attempts at mate selection, but they also pass all three elements of the SAS test – schools, colleges and universities score very high on the Sociability and Shared-interest factors, and while alcohol is not usually served in classrooms, students have plenty of opportunities for drinking together.
The Shared-interest factor is particularly important to English adolescents. Adolescents everywhere tend to be self-conscious, but English ones are often especially awkward, lacking the social ease necessary to strike up conversations without an obvious point of contact. The shared lifestyle and concerns of students, and the informal atmosphere, make it easier for them to initiate conversation with each other. Simply by being students, prospective partners automatically have a great deal in common, and do not need to struggle to find topics of mutual interest.
Participant Sports, Clubs and Hobbies – and the Incompetence Rule
Almost all participant sports and hobbies score highly on the Sociability and Shared-interest factors in my SAS test – with the Alcohol element usually requiring some deliberate effort rather than being built into the activity itself.
I found that the level of flirtatious behaviour among members of amateur English sports teams or hobby-clubs tends to be inversely related to the standards achieved by participants and their enthusiasm for the activity. With some exceptions, one tends to find a lot of flirting among incompetent tennis players, unfit hill-walkers, cack-handed painters and tangle-footed dancers, but somewhat less among more proficient, serious, competitive participants in the same activities. Even the most blatantly incompetent will usually pretend that they are really there for the sport or activity to which the club is ostensibly dedicated. They may even genuinely believe this – the English are masters of self-delusion – but the truth is that their tennis racquets, Ordnance Survey maps and paintbrushes are all primarily props, facilitators of sociability, and often come in very handy as flirting tools.
Spectator Ev
ents
While they have the advantage of providing conversation topics of mutual interest, and some achieve a reasonable score on the Sociability factor, most sporting events and other spectator pastimes such as theatre or cinema are not particularly conducive to flirting or mate-seeking, as social interaction of any kind is usually limited to a short interval or requires ‘missing the action’.
The most striking exception to this rule is horseracing, where all of the ‘action’ takes place in just a few minutes, the half-hour interval between races is dedicated to sociability, and friendly interaction between strangers is actively encouraged by racecourse etiquette. Race-meetings pass all three elements of the SAS test, with the added advantage of a ready-made conversation-starter that includes the word ‘fancy’: ‘What do you fancy in the three-thirty?’
Singles’ Events, Dating Agencies and the No-date Rule
Singles’ parties, singles’ clubs and agency-arranged dates pass the SAS test, but only just. They don’t score very highly on Shared interest. This may sound daft, as participants have an obvious shared interest in finding a mate, but this interest is rather embarrassing to acknowledge, and therefore not much use as a conversation-starter. Even in non-sexual contexts, the English need to pretend that they are gathering for some reason other than just gathering, and the need for another ostensible motive is even greater when something as personal and intimate as mate-seeking is the real purpose of the event. Even when we are on a ‘date’, the English do not like to use this term; English males are particularly squeamish about the idea of ‘dating’ – it makes the whole thing too embarrassingly open and official. And too earnest. We don’t like being forced to take the whole courtship process too seriously: the very word ‘date’ seems to contravene the spirit of English humour rules.