What truly drives the world? While love is a frequent answer, the anticipation of it can be an even more powerful force. The complex dance of courtship, from gifts to compliments, fuels entire industries and artistic movements. Yet, these romantic overtures are far from universal. Social ethics dictate that what is considered a charming gesture in one culture, such as offering a hand to a lady, might be perceived entirely differently elsewhere. A playful shove could, in some contexts, be an equally potent, if less refined, sign of interest, illustrating the vast and often confusing map of human affection.
This landscape of early romance is riddled with miscommunication and endearing awkwardness. Consider the gentleman who, after a pleasant chance encounter with a woman, called her to say she had lost a pendant in his car. She insisted she had lost nothing, and he gently pressed, suggesting she just take a look. She adamantly refused. Only later did she realize his ruse: the “lost” pendant was a pretext to give her a gift and secure a second meeting. In another case, a young woman, sitting shyly next to a man she admired, secretly tore the bow from her own shoe and feigned distress to create a shared task, a small manufactured crisis to break the ice. He later confessed he saw her do it, but the gambit worked, sparking a romance.
Literary and anecdotal history is rich with such peculiar tokens of affection, from Tom Sawyer offering Becky Thatcher a dead rat on a string to more modern, clumsy compliments. One might hear their hair is praised with the line, “Those hairs really suit you,” or their legs are compared to “slender fountain pens.” While memorable, such praise often leaves one wondering about the speaker’s true intent. The art of the compliment, it seems, requires a deft hand and a sharp intellect, as poorly chosen words can be more baffling than flattering.
These modern dilemmas are, in fact, ancient struggles. The Roman poet Ovid, in his famous work “Ars Amatoria” (The Art of Love), offered timeless advice for navigating these delicate moments. He suggested that a suitor, seeing a speck of dust on a lady’s dress, should gently brush it off—and if no dust is present, he should brush it off anyway, because any pretext for gentle care is a good one. Ovid’s work, which ultimately led to his exile by Emperor Augustus for allegedly corrupting morals, demonstrates that for millennia, humanity has been seeking a guide for the tender, often clumsy, initial stages of love.
In our own time, the pursuit of love can lead to equally extreme, if different, measures. A wealthy 50-year-old man once sought a complete physical transformation through plastic surgery, telling his doctors to do whatever it took to make him look young again. After two and a half years of procedures, from dental work to hair transplants, he was disappointed with the result, lamenting he didn’t look 20. His quest highlights a common miscalculation: attempting to conquer time and win affection through superficial means, a battle that is rarely won and often misses the fundamental point of connection.
Ultimately, genuine connection often transcends physical appearance or grand, expensive gestures. The most powerful tool in the art of courtship may well be the most subtle: the perfectly chosen word. A story from Paris illustrates this beautifully. A woman sitting in the Tuileries Garden was approached by a gentleman who, before departing, said, “Madam, if I were a bold man, I would say your shoulders await passionate kisses. But I am not so bold as to tell you that.” With a smile, he left. His words—a blend of elegance, wit, and respect—were more memorable than any superficial compliment. It’s a reminder that across all cultures and eras, while rituals may change, the profound impact of sincere, intelligent, and beautifully crafted words remains the highest form of affection.