A great deal of advice on dating focuses on what we should ideally say to those we are attracted to
Yet whom we encounter, as we often do, without the help of a formal introduction.
Should we chance a remark on the weather, or ask directions to a bookshop, compliment them on their bag, or ask how their brunch tastes?
What unites the very recommendations is the notion that it's what we say to another person that will determine our level of success in the trials of dating.
But, in truth, what we would perhaps be wiser to focus on, and what will matter far more to our eventual results is what we are able to say to ourselves.
The so-called chat up lines we really need to dwell on are not those we address to another person. They are the ones we direct at our own uncertain and under-confident selves.
The lines that can most consolingly help us to believe that approaching another person can sometimes be a legitimate, safe, decent and plausible thing to do.
Here is some of what we might learn to tell ourselves in the face of our fears
We know, of course, how much there is that is unappealing and wrong with us.
We are the masters of self-hatred. We know all our worst angles, every mistake we've ever made, every idiotic thing we've ever said.
In certain moods, we can't put any of this out of our minds and so grow tongue-tied and furtive fleeing any possibility of new connections.
It feels as if we are wretched beings, and that no one we admire could ever begin to care about us, let alone want to share a few pleasantries with us.
But we are, of course, being monstrously harsh on ourselves. We are bringing a cruel and unwarranted perfectionism to bear on our characters.
We are deeply flawed, but so fortunately is everyone else. Our errors and ugly sides don't cast us out from humanity, they are what join us to it and renders us all the more hungry for and deserving of love.
We don't claim to be ideal, but nor is anyone else. We should, perhaps, dare to say hello without panicking at our shadow sides.
What we are terrified of is not just a "no", but everything that a "no" ends up symbolizing in our anxious minds
A definitely negative verdict on the hole of our characters, a confirmation that we don't, in essence, deserve to exist.
It isn't a brush-off that's a stake. A rejection from another person threatens to confirm all our worst thoughts about ourselves.
But the truth is, that if a refusal were to come, it would not be a plebiscite on our right to live.
It won't be that they loathe us profoundly or are sickened by our very existence.
Rather, that they're perhaps are with somebody else or in need of some time by themselves after a harsh breakup.
Or have physical tastes that run quite innocently in a different direction. None of it needs to be taken as a profoundly personal rebuke.
We should not let our tendencies to self-hatred blend in with the inevitable accidents and mismatches of any journey through the dating world.
The desirable ones have a habit of seeming very self-contained and complete. They don't usually look as if they would be interested in meeting anyone new or as if they could have space in their lives for someone like us.
They seem entirely contempt reading that book on the promenade or chatting to their friends by the check-in desk.
But, there is often far more space in other's hearts than the surface may suggest.
We know from our own experience how much, despite and often busy and competent life, we maintain an appetite for novelty,
for new kinds of interactions and sincerity, for fresh sources of kindness and interest.
We know how open we might at points be to an approach from a self-aware and well-meaning stranger.
This isn't because there's anything deficient in us, but because it's the human norm to be somewhat dissatisfied with parts of one's existence and to be occasionally curious about how things might go with another person.
It isn't impossible that someone we like the look of could, at the very same time as us quietly harbour a hungry heart.
It seems terrifying to try, of course, but in the broadest scheme of our lives the risk we are taking by saying hello does not deserve the terror we sometimes anxiously afford it.
We can survive a no. We will soon enough be stone-cold dead and should use the idea of our own impending doom to make us less scared
of the many petty challenges that stand in the way of our plans for happiness before it's all too late.
We should panic ourselves about one big thing so as to loosen our hold on our day to day inhibitions.
The thing we must really be afraid of is not to hear that they already have a partner, but that we will reach the grave without having dared to cross a room to say hello.
We are terrified of coming across as foolish, but rather than harbouring this fear in a secret part of our fearful selves, we should make ourselves entirely at peace with our dread
and gain confidence from an open-hearted acceptance of our own and everyone else's clumsy ridiculousness.
Of course we are idiots. If we stumbled and said a silly thing it shouldn't ever be news to us, just confirmation of an already established and quite unchangeable truth about everyone:
That doing stupid things is a basic feature of being human. Though we can't possibly guess at the exact details, the person in front of us must also have done a great many ridiculous and strange things in their own lives.
Being a bit of an idiot should never disqualify anyone from the possibility of love.
They, of course, look sublime, which may feel like an argument for never daring to speak to them.
We readily imagine that they could only love someone as perfectly formed as they are, but the laws of biology and psychology can work hugely in our favor in the background.
We tend to fall in love with people who remind us of a parent of the gender we're attracted to, and many beautiful people had mercifully ugly parents.
They may themselves look stunning, but their personal histories can mean that they will be inclined to look very benevolently on our own physical shortcomings,
which may touchingly remind them their deeply beloved but bald and short father or kind-hearted yet short-sighted and plain-looking mother.
We imagine, naturally, that they will already have countless offers. Their wonderfulness immediately suggests as much and out of modesty we walk away.
The irony, is that everyone will tend to think the very same thing, and therefore, ironically, they may be far more alone and neglected than more average candidates.
None of this are lines we direct at the other person. They are all things we can afford to say to ourselves, as we try to do that most implausible and needlessly scary of things:
Introduce ourselves to an as yet unknown human that we might one day share our lives with.
Love is a skill that we can learn. Our Relationships books calmly guides us with calm and charm through the key issues of relationships to ensure that success and love need not be a matter of good luck.
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