Disclaimer: This article is for entertainment purposes only and readers should know, truly, the author has no known experience when it comes to talking to men.
First of all, don’t laugh, because I am dead serious when I say I was a little afraid of coming to the U.K. as a recovering hopeless romantic.
Bridget Jones’s Diary. Notting Hill. Pride and Prejudice. Besides the (not-so-startling) entirely white cast featuring the girl who’s “not like other girls”—a personal favorite trope—what do all of these movies have in common?
British men!
It’s a sad reality, but all it takes is one “hello, luv” from an average-looking, above-average-smelling walking British accent to have American girls falling over. And I was stressed.
At 21, I find myself on an odd road of self-discovery and burnout recovery, wondering why I laughed at cute boys’ jokes when they’re more mean than funny.
Fifteen-year-old me would never believe it, but I have long outgrown love (read: six months ago, the author learned a long, hard lesson).
Here’s the thing about hopeless, helpless romantics: The romantic in us never truly dies. All it takes is the right person walking through the door and sitting next to you (even though there are plenty of other seats), tapping you on the shoulder, and going: “Hey, can I borrow a pencil?”
Sure! And while you’re at it, why don’t you go ahead and take my dignity too because, whose eyes are just that brown?
I’m a mental checklist kind of girl who pretends to be an environmentalist (save the trees! Oh, and the turtles!). I think of 99 ways a situation can go wrong and 101 solutions, because there’s never been anything wrong with having a backup for the backup plan.
Boys and haram (forbidden) relationships was number 14 on the list—right after 30 degree (F) weather and just before getting lost in the great big city of London.
And when I say boys, what I really mean is BOYS—bold, all caps, and underlined if the editors find me charming enough—because really. It’s that serious.
So I sat and schemed and observed and devised a foolproof British boy repellent plan that is 100% guaranteed NOT to land you a London lad.
Are you keeping up?
RULE #1: INSISTENT EYE CONTACT
The perfect way to scare off a British man is simply by staring at him. I’m talking 5-10 seconds of stone-cold, silent eye contact (note: it is important not to smile. You don’t want this guy getting any ideas that he can be comfortable around you, now do you?).
For some reason, there’s this tired stereotype that Londoners are rude. However, I have pleasantly found that British people are kind, down-to-earth, and quite simply prefer to mind their own business. But God forbid you make eye contact with them.
Trust me, 10 seconds of eye-contact (no blinking, just for the plot), you’ll have him looking down at his shoes, at the wall, out the window and wondering: “Why’s this weirdo staring at me?”
RULE #2: CALL FOOTBALL SOCCER
Pro tip: Meet him at the local pub to watch the game and when the match starts, ask, “Wait, so which one is Messi?”
RULE #3: REMIND HIM ABOUT YOUR ASTHMA
Something I did not expect when coming to London, is the insane smoking culture here. I’m talking about deep smog: mothers smoking their third cigarette waiting for the bus with their toddler in the buggy.
Chances are, if you’ve found a British boy, you’ve found a candidate for lung cancer.
So let’s say you’ve met a guy who not only tolerates, but likes eye contact and who thinks your dim-wittedness about football (proper football, not American—he makes sure to specify) is charming. Sort of cute, even. The next sure-fire step to warding off a British man is to diagnose yourself with asthma—cough, cough.
It’s either the cigarettes or you. And we all know which one he’s choosing, babe.
RULE #4: MAKE HIM QUESTION HIS IDENTITY
If all else fails, it’s time to go back to the basics and confuse the enemy with a classic case of gaslighting.
Number 9 on my list of things to be worried about when leaving the U.S. for the first time was my identity. In the U.S., I’m Black. So when I leave, what does that make me? If the United States couldn’t be my country of origin, then what was? It turns out the answer is very simple and found within the question itself: I am an American who thinks too much.
So, when talking to Londoners about where they’re from, you’ll get a compact list of countries and cultures, not a color you can find in a crayon box. So with your tiny little American brain (because I can confidently affirm that’s how they view us), say to the most African London boy you can find: “So you’re just Black, then. Me too!”
And if he’s an original colonizer? Well, the joke writes itself.
At the end of the day, London is a diverse city with rich cultures and boys of all shapes, sizes, and accents (mostly thin, tall, gorgeous), so this list may not be enough to keep them permanently away (read: this list may not be enough to stop you from getting your heart broken).
So try bumping into him without saying the customary sorry… sorry… sorry-sorry… my fault, sorry! Tell him it’s called a “line” not a “queue” and then push him in the gap between the platform and the tube. Remind him not to cross the street until the light is green and that beans don’t go on toast. Ever, actually. And that doing so should be a criminal offense.
Get creative with it!
But. Whatever you do, don’t stare too deeply into his eyes. Don’t notice the color or the shape or how he crinkles his eyes when he thinks he’s said something clever and he’s waiting for you to catch up. Because once you’ve done that and the accent starts hitting and you realize his reserved nature is respectful, not rude, and he’s tall and not loud and really interesting and skates in his free time, but he’s humble about it and smiles more than he should—once you realize all of that, you’re be done for.
You’ll catch yourself on a Friday night, laughing a little too hard at one of his jokes and thinking to yourself maybe Bridget was on to something when she chose that Colin Firth guy.
Serenity Anderson is a student at Chapman University and a Featured DEI Blogger. She is studying with ISA in London, England.
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