The Cambridge Student

Isabella Swan will be writing a series of articles entitled A Number of Steps to Acquiring a Boyfriend. This week's edition of The Cambridge Student contains the first article:

Step 1: Identify a suitable target

This step can be one of the hardest, depending on the strictness of your criteria. Perhaps it is adequate for the target to be male and interested, maybe physical attractiveness is the key, and perhaps the sharing of a number of interests is also required. And then there are the practicalities. Does age matter? Would you have a lower or upper age limit? Or location – is near proximity a necessity or can you make a long distance relationship work? It can be worth bearing in mind that there is such a thing as too close as well as too far.

Other details to consider might be his friends – could you see yourself happy hanging out with them – or his family (although this only applies if you can see yourself getting seriously involved). And that brings me to the next question – what type of relationship are you looking for? A casual flirtation? Just sex? Marriage and 2.4 kids? Once you've got the answers to these questions tied down, you've got to find a guy that meets your specifications.

You might find it helps to write a list of things you're looking for in a guy. Start by writing a description of yourself and your interests, then list the qualities that are necessary and those that would be ideal in your chosen guy.

Next, work out a list of places where you're most likely to find said guy. For example, if you're looking for a sporty guy, start going along to your college sports matches. Or if you're looking for a guy who likes the same bands as you do, go to some of their concerts and see if you can spot a guy that takes your fancy.

My challenge to all my readers is to go away, make a list of your specifications and possible locations, and by next week I'd like you to have identified at least one guy that you could be potentially interested in.

Watch out for next week's edition of The Cambridge Student, containing Step 2: Carry out reconnaissance.

Oh, and you'll probably need to remember his name.

Author's background:

Isabella grew up in Phoenix, Arizona with her mother until she was 17, when she moved to Forks, Washington to live with her father. All through high school she was one of the quiet kids in the corner, and could always be spotted with her nose in a book, and this didn't change much when she moved across the pond to Cambridge to study English Literature at the university. She is now in her third and final year of her B.A., and will be graduating shortly to join the real world, outside of the Cambridge bubble.

Having nearly finished my course at university, I'm starting to regret not spending more of my time taking advantage of the opportunity to make connections. I've made a few close friends, all girls, but haven't really made much of an effort looking for guys. I was never particularly interested to be honest. I'm a very solitary person by nature, and prefer to spend my evenings curled up with a good book than in a loud and crowded pub or club. I'd also had a few bad experiences in the past.

When I was a fresher I drank quite a lot, especially in freshers' week (alcohol being a fairly effective social lubricant) and made out with a few guys, but there was never anything that went any further, usually due to lack of effort on my part. The exception was a guy I really liked, and who I thought was really into me, but he resisted every attempt of mine to meet up again, until I resigned myself to being alone.

My attitude started to change, however, when the editor of TCS approached me about writing those articles about acquiring a boyfriend. He'd been impressed with an advice column I'd written previously, and thought I'd be perfect for the job. I didn't like to tell him that my lack of experience in this arena made me rather unqualified, instead deciding to do my own research as I wrote the articles.

Thus I'm here, at the age of 21, trying to take my own advice and identify a suitable guy. As I'm mostly doing this just for the article, I'll only really be looking for a casual flirtation, especially since I'll be graduating soon, so I'll see where that leaves me. As I advised everyone else in my article, I'll first have to work out what I'm looking for, and it would probably be a good idea to write it down:

I'm looking for a guy who:

- Shares some of the same interests as myself

- Is physically attractive

- Has a pleasant personality

- Would be suitable for a fairly casual flirtation

- Is not a chauvinist (unfortunately this breed is fairly common in Cambridge)

- Voted Conservative in the general election (ok, so this one isn't vital)

- Doesn't have overly radical beliefs about anything, but isn't too passive either

- Doesn't object to feminism

- Is not a boatie (rowing has a tendency to take over people's lives)

- Is pro-life

Ok, maybe I'm getting a little carried away here. After all, I'm not looking for a life partner. Onto the next list – possible locations:

My dislike of noise and crowds means a bar or a club won't be the best place to look, not that you'd find me voluntarily walking through the doors of such a place no matter what the motivation. After all, the type of guy I'd find in a bar isn't likely to meet all my specifications.

My passion for literature means the college library could be a good start, but I might start to get some odd looks if I'm seen hanging around the literature bookshelves looking for a guy. Perhaps I could start up a book club, but that does seem like too much like hard work, plus it would probably end up being mostly girls that turned up.

Alternatively, I could go to some of the classical concerts the college puts on and see if I can find a guy that shares my interest in classical music. Perhaps I'd even be able to find a pianist with skilled fingers. I'll have to remember to have a look and see if there are any coming up in the next week.

Other places to find a quiet sort of guy might include the chapel, I suppose. Or maybe the local church, although that might mean sacrificing my Sunday morning lie-in.

After I'd organised my search and written down my lists, I looked through the college weekly bulletin in search of a suitable concert or other event. After I'd momentarily considered going along to free yoga classes, then remembered my complete lack of balance and laughed at my foolishness in even considering the idea, then discovered that the college bar is going to be redecorated, yet again, and they're looking for suggestions, yet again, I noticed a short and insignificant looking note at the bottom:

The dean of the college would like to invite any willing students to his rooms on Tuesday evenings for port and a chance to chat away from the stress of work.

Perfect. That sounded like it was just my sort of thing, meaning anyone I met there was likely to meet at least a few of my specifications. Plus, who can turn down an offer of free port?

So the next Tuesday, I went along. I had to admit to myself that another part of the reason I was going was because I had a bit of a crush on the dean. Unfortunately, he's married with a baby boy, so he's definitely unavailable. I was the first one there, so I began by making small talk with the dean, while drinking my glass of port perhaps a little too quickly. We discussed his wife and baby and my work, until another couple of people turned up. Unfortunately neither were suitable for my target.

One was Ben, who's engaged to my good friend Angela. They make a great couple, and have been together since our first year here. The other was a guy called Eric. I'd seen him around a bit, and he's your typical greasy haired maths geek. Certainly not attractive, and I have my suspicions that he might be gay.

We discussed politics for a while, with the chaplain repeatedly topping up our port glasses. We covered the recent elections; the new Conservative-Lib Dem coalition; the new prime minister. And then, towards the end of the evening, success!

He walked in a little hesitantly, asking if he was too late, and introduced himself. It seemed that everyone else there already knew him a little, and I wondered why I'd never seen him around before. The chaplain welcomed him in and poured him a glass of port, refilling my glass yet again at the same time. I'd long since lost count of how much I'd drunk, but was aware that it was probably a fair bit more than I'd intended to, a detail reflected by the fact that as soon as the new guy had finished introducing himself I'd forgotten his name – although this wasn't particularly unusual for me even when I was sober. I decided to mentally refer to him as cute guy until I found out his name. This decision was followed by a sudden worry that I might call him that to his face, and I had to swallow a giggle at this thought. Yes, I was definitely drunk.

He sat next to me on the sofa, giving me the chance to admire his profile. I didn't usually go for ginger guys, but his was of such a shade that it looked magnificent in the candle light, with the different colours sparkling as the uneven light reflected in different directions. His face was perfectly shaped, with long eyelashes framing his dazzling grey-green eyes. He certainly fit the physical attractiveness criterion; it remained to be seen whether he would fit the rest.

He quickly joined in the conversation and talked animatedly, showing his clear interest in politics and his conservative leanings. Another criterion filled; several more to go.

It wasn't too long before the dean was kicking us out, as he had somewhere to be early the next morning. I was disappointed, expecting the evening to end there, but probed cute guy a little about his background while we made our way down the chapel staircase. It seemed he was from South London originally, but had spent a large part of his childhood in the Scottish highlands, where his family had a house right on the shore of a loch. When he heard that I had never been to Scotland, he assured me that I was missing out.

The next thing I knew, he was asking if I fancied going along to the college bar for a bit. It was the birthday of a friend of his, so a bunch of his friends would be hanging out there. I'd had enough port not to feel to apprehensive about going to a bar, so I happily agreed, and he insisted on buying me a drink. It certainly didn't help with my sobriety, but the fact that he offered meant that he must be at least a little interested, right?

We found his friends and sat at the edge of the circle, carrying on our conversation where we left off. I had only a vague memory of the things we discussed by the end of the evening, the alcohol playing its part in the worsening of my memory, but I did recall discussing immigration and travelling, and he agreed with me on both (he thought the current immigration level was excessive and he wanted to travel the world). At this point it seemed that he really was perfect. He also reassured me that he was sure I hadn't really failed my exams, and that I was going to get my dissertation written fine. Nice to know.

The bar closed just after eleven and the bartender kicked us all out. Cute guy said he had quite a bit of work to do, so was going back to his room to do that; I decided to take this as an indication of his commitment to his studies, not his lack of interest in continuing the evening. He did express an interest in seeing me again, perhaps after I'd handed in my dissertation, which seemed like a good sign.

Making my way back to my own room, I was content that I'd completed the first step. My next task would be to work out how to implement the second step, both so that I could write my next article and so I could end up with this guy.

My last thought as I drifted off into a drunken daze was if only I remembered cute guy's name.