Tag Archives: valentines day

37 Tips to make yourself more desirable to men




1. Instead of shaving your arms weekly, add more hair to them and become a human blanket for your boyfriend in the winter.

2. Or remove every strand of hair from your body and scream through the night like an infant. Really embrace having baby-smooth skin.

3. No one wants to see their tiny reflection in your overbearing lipgloss, so apply shiny balm to your whole face for a more proportionate reflection.

4. See a man you like? Befriend his mother and get her to tell you what he’s wearing so you can pick a matching outfit each morning. Imitation is key.

5. Oversized jumpers don’t accentuate the curves and crevices of your body. If you’re really cold just set yourself on fire.




6. Cat eyeliner is for cats so whip on that eyeliner, crawl around on all fours, chase some laser beams, and become a cat.

7. Bangles that make noise when they hit each other are irritating. Commit to a life of silence by investing in soundproof clothing, surgically removing your voice box, and tip toeing to and from work.

8. Heavy perfume can be overpowering so buy him nostril plugs for Valentine’s.

9. Alternatively, roll around in a bed of flowers for 45 minutes each evening to get that soft feminine odour naturally radiating off your skin.

10. Stop wearing pantsuits. The Hillary Rodham Clinton look is not attractive to men. Men hate when women’s full names have five syllables.





11. Delete your emails immediately. Men hate those.

12. Fake fingernails are so 2005. Grow them out yourself until the sharp edges are so long they can curve all the way around his throat.

13. Don’t wear uncomfortable shoes and then complain that your feet hurt. Wear uncomfortable shoes and then cry into your pillow at night as the blood seeps from your feet into the bed sheets.

14. Avoid outdated heavy eye makeup that slightly resembles a raccoon by painting your whole face to entirely resemble a raccoon.

15. Or get the “no makeup” look men go crazy for with just 8 products and 40 minutes to spare each morning.




16. Men don’t like short hair. Grow out your luscious locks and drape them out the window while you stare longingly at the sunset.

17. Don’t over pluck your eyebrows. Don’t under pluck your eyebrows.

18. Don’t over accessorize. Don’t under accessorize.

19. Get a PhD in Mathematics and finally solve the equation for ideal accessorizing and plucking. Subsequently win the Fields Medal and bring honour to your family.

20. Don’t wear short shorts that show a glimpse of your ass. Wear trousers with holes for your ass cheeks so he knows exactly what he’s getting.





21. But don’t expose too much of your skin. It’s important to leave some to the imagination. Help prompt his imagination with sexy texts like “Just ate the piece of popcorn I lost last night, I found it in the bra I’ve been wearing for the past 3 weeks! ;)”

22. Fur is out. Insect skin is in.

23. Don’t lean forward while trying to push out your ass. Get your spine bent by a cosmetic surgeon so you can achieve optimum ass curvature while maintaining those perky boobs.

24. Instead of wearing fake eyelashes that bear resemblance to spiders growing out of your eyes, adopt and train two pet tarantulas to crawl around your face at all times.

25. Coloured lipstick makes it look like you just gave head to a smurf, which isn’t fair to human men. Give head to them instead.





26. Instead of dyeing your hair a weird unnatural colour, dye it the same colour as his.

27. Shave his hair off while he sleeps and glue it to your own head.

28. Fake glasses aren’t a fashion accessory. Read 50 books in the darkness until you need a prescription like a real woman.

29. Avoid misleading him by contouring just half of your face so he can appreciate how hot you look while understanding that you are a regular human being underneath.

30. Snapchat filters are also misleading so sport a flower crown over your dog ears when you meet him.





31. Delete Instagram and wear a #nofilter shirt at all times so he knows he isn’t being deceived.

32. Men hate high waisted jeans because they’re completely impractical. Overcome his worry by getting a waist-lift so your legs start right under your boobs.

33. Avoid wearing crop tops because exposing your belly button is disgusting. Who knows what might be in them?

34. Don’t get collagen injections to make your lips look fuller. Berate your parents for their faulty genetic makeup and begin to plot your revenge.

35. Thigh gap fixations are getting old. Glue your thighs together. Then add fins and a dash of glitter. Now you’re a mermaid and men love that.

36 Leggings are unflattering and unacceptable unless you’re going for a run, perhaps to escape the growing pile of dishes you’ve been neglecting.

37. Start running now. Never look back.



Valentine’s Day disasters: ‘I bought her a pager. It was the creepiest Valentine’s present in history’




It’s nearly Valentine’s Day! What better way to celebrate than sharing your excruciating memories of the least romantic day of the year.

The A-road to romance

Tim Jonze with his paramour.
Tim Jonze with his paramour.

I like to think it’s a unique and extraordinary kind of lover who can take their Valentine to watch them play five-aside football in the rain and for that still not to be the worst Valentine’s date they have ever been on. That honour belongs to 2010, in which my paramour and I took the day off but then realised we had a) nothing planned and b) quite needed a new desk. And so we did what any hot-headed lovers in the throes of passion do: headed to Ikea in Edmonton. This being Valentine’s Day, of course, I thought we should add a degree of romance to proceedings by taking the “scenic route”, one that involved traversing various non-pedestrianised stretches of an A-road in the Tottenham area and – during one map-reading error – a children’s adventure playground. I won’t elaborate on the date itself other than to say that shortly after arriving we realised that, having come without a car, our shopping would have to be limited to anything that could also be carried back across various non-pedestrianised stretches of an A-road in the Tottenham area and a children’s adventure playground. We called off the whole sorry endeavour and I realised that it was time to splash some serious cash in the Ikea canteen. Sparks must have flown over those £3.89 meatballs, though, as three months later we were married – I hope you’re taking notes lads.
Tim Jonze

Would I get to snog Tracey?

When I was 17 years old, I took out a girl called Tracey for an excruciating Valentine’s Day dinner in Watford; it was at a branch of a now defunct chain called Berni’s in the high street. I was emboldened to do this because I had — and there is no other way to put this — “snogged” Tracey during the slow-dance phase of a party at a village hall the fortnight before, while the DJ played the Commodores’ Three Times a Lady. Tracey had at the time just broken up with her boyfriend and this was very much a rebound situation. Anyway, the meal was all right in its steak-and-liebfraumilch way, and the conversation was stilted, but not too bad. Afterwards I walked Tracey back to the bus stop near Clarendon Road, and to be quite frank I considered that another snog before we parted was not out of the question. But just as we neared the old Carlton cinema I saw her ex-boyfriend on the other side of the street with his mates and, without thinking, I said: “Isn’t that your boyfriend?” Why, oh why, didn’t I keep my mouth shut? I have asked myself that question many times over the years. Tracey looked over and, with considerably more emotion than she’d showed all evening, said: “Oh my God!” and ran over to him. It was a passionate, painful reunion for them and I was suddenly the gooseberry of all gooseberries. Tracey looked back at me and gave me the briefest possible shrug/grimace to indicate I was dismissed. They went off and I realised I had missed my bus and had to walk home. And so ended Valentine’s Day 1979.
Peter Bradshaw

The card was from Dad

Bake potato with cheese
The food of love?

There is nothing about Valentine’s Day I don’t loathe. I loathe the sickly iconography; the restaurants full of the awkward or the in-heat, all about to be scalped in the name of love and a withering red rose; the fact that it just reminds me of all the ones I’ve loathed before. It has never delivered me anything other than disappointment: the card that turned out to be from my dad; the gift of “romantic” plastic Volvo crash test dummies; the chap who cooked me a seductive meal of cheese-stuffed baked potato, served in its original polystyrene container. St Valentine and all who sail in him can do one on a raft of cheap chocolate and forecourt flowers.
Marina O’Loughlin

Those boots weren’t made for walking

I went to the cinema with someone so physically perfect that I once involuntarily shielded my eyes. He didn’t fancy me, though. Then we watched other people shagging for an hour and a half. Some other guy was there. He didn’t fancy me either. I didn’t fancy him, but that didn’t help. Then we all went to this horrible bar full of Sloanes, and then walked home through this blasting arctic misery. I was dragging my feet because my boots were too tight, and they both said: “How can those boots be too tight, when they’re GINORMOUS?” And then they both laughed all the way home, which might have been 15 minutes of solid laughter. It’s possible that we were all stoned. I felt sick with despair and self-hate, but also really hungry and couldn’t stop thinking about yoghurt. That sucked.
Zoe Williams

Paging Cupid

Pager
Page R for Romance

I bought her a pager. It was the creepiest Valentine’s present in the history of mankind; a horrific, pre-mobile “now I will always know where you are” show of possessiveness. One that barely even got used after I realised that all my intimate messages of love had to be relayed via a bored-sounding Wolverhampton-based call centre worker who audibly hated his job, his life and me. In a hopelessly misjudged act of unwarranted maturity for a teenager, I’d also booked a table for us; me and my first serious girlfriend in one of those sterile fill-the-place-with-tables-for-two-and-charge-everyone-double places that spring up in small towns each February. Midway through the starter, one of my contact lenses began to violently reject my body. My left eye started to burn and swell. It hurt to even open it, so I ended up eating all three courses locked into a permanent teary wink. Incidentally, if you’re reading this, I don’t recommend the cry-wink as a method of seduction. It sends all sorts of mixed signals. I’ve got better at Valentine’s Day now; I don’t really acknowledge it. It seems safer that way.
Stuart Heritage