When new love is in the air, blokes agree it’s best not to break wind – at least not in front of the object of your affections.
They will even take up yoga or fib about enjoying Bridget Jones films, a Top 40 compiled by dating site EliteSingles reveals.
So with half of men admitting to changing their behaviour to impress a new flame, do our male writers have anything to confess?
Top 40 things men do to impress women
- Not breaking wind (at least not when your partner is around)
- Stopped swearing
- Maintained a tidy house
- Trimmed your body hair
- Cut back on fast food
- Purchased expensive aftershave
- Watched entire episodes of Strictly Come Dancing or the X-Factor
- Started dieting
- Claimed to be interested in politics
- Claimed to be interested in environmental issues
- Bought an entire new wardrobe of clothes
- Claimed to enjoy Bridget Jones movies
- Stopped smoking (or pretended to)
- Claimed to like cats
- Started going to the gym
- Implied you had a very busy and popular social schedule
- Read and/or watched 50 Shades of Grey
- Pretended you are more family-orientated than you are
- Written poetry
- Claimed to like dogs
- Bought a more expensive shower gel
- Pretended not to like football
- Claimed to like Ed Sheeran
- Watched entire episodes of Sex and the City
- Given money to charity
- Joined a ballroom dance class
- Given money to a homeless person
- Got a tan
- Enrolled in yoga sessions
- Read a ‘chicklit’ book
- Embarked on a vegetarian diet
- Raised money for charity
- Been on an political march
- Taken part in activist activities
- Embarked on a vegan diet
- Attempted to learn to play a musical instrument
- Started cycling to work
- Claimed not to like sci-fi
- Claimed not to enjoy action movies
- Had a manicure
And what do these men do for love
I’m not so much a hopeless romantic as romantically hopeless. On a weekend in Paris I arrived so badly hungover, unshaven and sleep deprived, that I went straight to sleep on the hotel bed.
The first date at the cinema to see what was meant to be a French rom com but turned out to be violent prison drama.
And one potential life partner failed to see the romance of seeing Charlton lose at home to Sheffield Utd.
I’ve tried cooking (blue quiche anyone?), buying cakes (squashed on arrival) and woodland walks (fell in a river).
The only thing that has ever worked is words. Lots of them. When I want to impress I write: love letters, poems and stories.
I’ve lied about music (“David Soul? God, yeah, the best”), blamed a first date release of wind on the street drains and pretended to be into theatre to impress a studious sixth-former, which rebounded when I asked if she fancied coming to ours to watch the TV series I, Clavdivs (I took the Latin spelling literally).
But the most embarrassing was when I was 16 and smitten with a very cool 18 year old, who said she hated the way every boy was obsessed with football.
Not me, I told her. So we dated. Until she saw me on the eve of the 1974 FA Cup Final waiting for a Wembley-bound coach, wearing a red and white striped top hat, my mum’s red maxi coat and a huge Liverpool rosette.
Manicure? Cats? Yoga? What superficial wimps today’s blokes sound.
I impressed my girlfriend by vowing to stand by her if she got pregnant. And when she did, hitching 120 miles a night in the coldest winter for a generation – 1963 – to visit her in hospital.
And then by defying my father to get us married in Scotland. You can fart and swear all you like if she knows you’ll do the job. Oh, and 54th wedding anniversary next month – beat that, aftershave wusses.
The object of my affections as a 12-year-old had a beautiful French name: Angelique. And it was during a French class that I came a cropper trying to impress her.
The less than angelic Angelique thought it would be hilarious to dare me to pinch a teacher’s bottom.
I didn’t hesitate. Sadly, another teacher walked in and hauled me out of the room. I’d just committed assault and was in big trouble.
As I was reduced to tears, the whole class filed past, including an utterly unimpressed-looking Angelique.
Thankfully, the teacher didn’t mind too much and I got off with a big dose of public humiliation.
The woman’s view by Polly Hudson
When I first met my husband, I listened when he talked about football. Actually, properly, totally, enthusiastically listened.
Then, once the magical sheen of new love began to fade, I pretended to listen while secretly thinking about something – anything – else.
A bit further down the line came the groaning and eye-rolling at any mention of Arsenal, and nowadays it’s not even an issue.
He knows his audience, and that I am not the right one, so he doesn’t even bother trying. Ah, marriage. The truth is that at the start of a relationship, there’s one thing no one ever is. Truthful.
We all put on an act to try to impress and seduce. So men pretend they never fart, love Bridget Jones and have no interest in the adult material that is – apparently – on the net.
The sad thing is, they need not bother. The women they are putting on this act for are far too busy insisting they always wear sexy underwear and have no problem with thrice weekly boys’ nights out to notice.