Sound Advice for Amorous Swains

One of the things that seems to have been killed off  in today’s woke world is the art of seduction. Forget the theme songs of the many Hollywood movies that entertained  teenagers and their parents in the ‘50’s and ‘60s such as Bing Crosby crooning to a wavering Doris Day, “Baby it’s Cold Outside” or Doris returning mixed but encouraging messages in her “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps…” The implicit message: Maybe. Convince me… 

Things got a bit more heated by the Eighties when AC/DC belted out “She Shook Me All Night Long” and Joe Cocker followed that up  with the equally explicit “You Can Leave Your Hat On … (yes, yes, yes )…”

These days No means No, right? Well maybe not if you’re a Labor state government keen to ignore the overwhelming “No bloody way” rejection by 61 per cent of the voting population to the divisive Voice referendum. No, they’ll ignore the electorate’s veto and pursue their goal by other means (but with the same taxpayer money).

But back to the business of sexual connotations, today’s young males could be thoroughly confused by the latest definition of rape, which doesn’t have to involve the word No, or even physical messages implying a Yes, especially when there is alcohol involved! Be very careful or you could end up in the dock at a trial that boils down to “he said/ she said.”

The poor judge then has to wade through, to use the latest trending term, an “omnishambles”, to form a personal opinion of which party is telling the bigger lies.

Not having not come down in last month’s April showers and having been around the block more than a few times, I thought I would offer some helpful advice for blokes on a boozy night out:

If you are lucky enough to meet a girl/ woman who doesn’t reject your initial pick-up line, let her buy her own drinks!

If she agrees to go back to your place  for a shot of whiskey or to listen to your vinyl collection (beats Spotify) don’t pash her in public. Big Brother is watching.

If you go back to your office rather than home because your girlfriend is there waiting, ask the security guard or the Uber driver to note her relative sobriety.

If it’s in the early hours of the morning, don’t try to convince anyone that you only went there to complete some work project that’s not due for several weeks.

If you eventually get clear signals that she’s now ready for amorous horizontalism, whip out your  phone and record her stating, “Yes, go ahead. Take me, I’m yours, lover boy!”

If your phone is out of charge, produce the statutory declaration form you should be keeping in a handy pocket and get a big tick beside ‘Yes’. Consider asking the security guard to witness it.

If she passes out naked on the couch, be a gentleman: don’t leave her there to alarm the security guard some hours later.

Take the above steps and, if for whatever reason you are accused of hunnish behaviour, you should be able to prove your innocence beyond “the realms of probability”. Also, don’t sell your story to the media (they’re dodgy as hell) and if the trial is aborted or you’re cleared, don’t “go back in the lion’s den to retrieve your hat.” You could end up losing your wallet as well.

Speaking for myself, I’m very glad I grew up in the days when seduction was alive and well, woke just meant awake rather than brain dead, LGBTIQ+ were random letters, there were only two genders, and sex scandals framed by a web of lies from both sides never influenced a federal election.

John Mikkelsen is a former editor of three Queensland newspapers, columnist,  freelance writer and author of the Amazon Books memoir, Don’t Call Me Nev