I’m Claire F***ing Rayner (The Following Analysis is Inadequate and a Complete Waste of Time).

There surely can’t be a more tragic example of “male autism” than trying to put ~@lOvE@~ into quantifiable bar charts. There surely can’t be a more telling sign that one has too much time on one’s soft, work-shy hands than spending a good 45 minutes playing around with bar charts of ~@LoVe@~ for no apparent reason. Hey! Wait a minute! I resent that. When I did these I certainly didn’t have too much time on my hands, sir! No, sir, I was procrastinating from going to bed after the rest of the night had been consumed by a tedious WORK vortex. WORK done, I was “unwinding”. This is how I unwind (there may be something wrong with me). I was procrastinating about going to bed because going to bed meant “eyes-close-eyes-open-more-WORK” (a freaked-out dream to put you ill-at-ease for the start of the day if you’re lucky). I did this, even though pissing about with ~@lOVe@~ bar charts was eating into my healthy sleep time and therefore making tomorrow’s WORK that tiny bit wearier and harsher to deal with (there may be something wrong with me). Today I do have too much time on my hands.

So, here’s some bar charts on ~@LovE@~ that I did.

Non Starter #1 (High Physical Attraction/Low Rapport and Stuff In Common):

Finding the sexiest, prettiest vision you have ever dreamed of with your shiny eyes only means that you will try harder to establish Rapport and find Stuff In Common. If, after a brave effort, none are found then it’s a Non-Starter. Lack of the other two is actually a massive turn-off – it just ain’t true that blokes are all about looks and nothing else, and frankly I resent your assertion to the contrary. I know you were thinking it. Sexist.

You will probably try to delude yourself that you do have a Rapport and you do have Stuff In Common, despite massive evidence to the contrary, such is your weak-willed male neediness. But if they just don’t “get” your conversation and have nothing in common with you, then they are obviously either a terrible, terrible person or a boring moron. This is a good thing to tell yourself when encountering jaw-dropping creatures that are simply out of your league.

Friends – Not Close (High Rapport/Low Physical Attraction and Stuff In Common):

Your conversation crackles with both zip and zing; all double-act quick-stuff and rare banter-gold. But without anything much in common and little Physical Attraction you simply do not have that extra motivation to really properly get to know each other. You are “fun acquaintances”. Not, on its own, the basis for Truuuuuuue Loooooooooooove.

Although... to give good Rapport you have to have something in common – a way of speaking, a sense of humour, certain thought processes... aw shit, this is ill-thought-out. I’ve messed it up. Balls. Ok, let’s pretend I didn’t say that and just run with the idea that surface Rapport is not the same as deeper Stuff In Common.

Non-Starter #2 (High Stuff In Common/Low Physical Attraction and Rapport):

Stuff In Common alone is bloodless, rubbish – clearly no interest there, ‘cos there’s no zing! No way in, and no motivating attraction. Who cares what other people say about how “you two would really get on”... ain’t happening. You may well be soul-mates under the surface, but if there is no Physical Attraction or Rapport you will never find this out.

You could be outwardly very different, but have a lot in common under the surface; or outwardly very similar but... don’t. Though that means at a deeper level still, there is stuff that you fundamentally don’t have in common... Ah, this is bollocks. I’ve messed it up again. Stuff In Common is a rubbish criteria. Should’ve stuck with Compatibility. We’re talking about people’s personalities here, and I haven’t come prepared. Could split personality into all manner of measurements – Two?! F***ing two?! What was I thinking of? A cocking wagon load of bouncing balls.

A Crying Shame (High Rapport and Stuff In Common/Low Physical Attraction):

This makes you feel like real shallow ass-hole. And you’re right, you are a real shallow ass-hole for this. Aw, but getting romantically involved with someone you just don’t physically fancy is just a bad idea – it will come back to haunt you and end in more pain, cruelty and unintentional emotional violence somewhere down the line because something in you will simply not be satisfied and that’s no firm basis for the passionate loving relationship. There is wisdom here. Or maybe you’re just trying to justify being a shallow ass-hole.

Oh! But as you get to know someone it’s possible to discover joyful details that you didn’t notice on first glance, and if the other two columns are high enough it can have a halo effect onto the person’s physical form: You find things about them, that you previously wouldn’t have looked twice at, becoming attractive; even things that were off-putting at first can become cute. Yeah, maybe. Don’t kid yourself you’re in any kind of control. If you definitely, simply don’t “fancy” someone, nothing is likely to change this. And that really is A Crying Shame – and the least understandable or explainable reason for not getting together with someone. Shake your fist at the Gods for your shitty luck, like Charlton Heston whenever he passes a half-buried Statue of Liberty.

Work At It, Dammit (High Physical Attraction and Stuff In Common/Low Rapport):

Sheeeeeeit – give it a chance. Only Rapport is missing – cool your funk. Yeah! The more you get to know each other, the easier it gets – it’s like learning a language, but easier. I’ve got plenty of friends who I couldn’t really talk to or figure out at first; but now we shoot the breeze and slap our thighs and finish each other’s sentences like a pair of hearty old sea-dogs. You should always remember this before passing over the opportunity to talk to the cool but awkward girl in preference for her “fun” friend, you shallow ass-hole.

Danger (High Physical Attraction and Rapport/Low Stuff In Common):

Oh my. This one is so, so, so hard to resist that I needed to use three so’s. Grabs you by the head and the balls simultaneously in this two-pronged attack. You will convince yourself this is a viable enterprise even though you know full well that deep down there is no substance here, things will get tired very quickly, and you will end up being kind of embarrassed that you fell for that shit after the fireworks have fallen back to earth. If prolonged may even lead to illusions of deep and meaningful connection but it’s all waffle and no action-slacks. Not a thimble of compatibility beyond the charming well-oiled chat routine, and nothing to hold you together when the rough hits the smooth. If you actually try to make something of it you will realise to your horror that, after the initial high-times, you are left steaming out the top of your bonce with sheer irritation at the very mention of your partner’s activities and interests, since these are now a crushingly tedious and frustrating part of your life, a distancing wedge between you and your partner that you resent with the whole of your howling broken soul. She’s f***ing boring. And annoying. And kind of embarrassing to be with in public.

There is always the outside possibility that this could in theory lead to a fascinating, turbulent relationship – all passion and arguments, stormy emotions and emotional make-ups. You’re always misunderstanding and annoying each other, but you can “get on” so easily that Making Up Is Not Hard To Do. Oh yeah, high romance. Except that viewed from the outside it just looks kind of pathetic and embarrassing. Sheesh.

That Was a Load of Guff, Thomas.

Yes. Well, I hope you enjoyed that exercise in over-analytical, navel-gazing, nit-picking guff; but this is all analysis after the fact. Even if we accept the catastrophic over-simplification that is my criteria, you can’t use these criteria to judge in advance. If you did you’d be some uber-choosy robo-fascist of romance, and, frankly, a dick, and if you listened to me with my tin-pot, Mickey-Mouse, Eddie-the-Eagle-Edwards romantic history, you’d be some kind of drooling pantaloon. I’m painfully single. I think the above demonstrates why.