As I know next to nothing about going on first dates or about writing first columns, I naturally decided to write about both. Hey, go big or go home, right? This concise advice list relating to its title has been compiled with the thoughtful input of some friends — who know next to nothing about going on first dates and writing first columns either.

1. Don’t use metaphors.

On a first date, an example of a cheesy metaphor would be to say that your date is a rose. Pablo Neruda can pull that one off. Chances are, you cannot. (But if you try, at least do it in another language, preferably one your date won’t understand. Things sound a lot sexier that way.) An example of a poor metaphor to use in a first column is comparing the column to a first date.

2. Don’t contradict yourself.

An example of this would be if I were to say that first columns and first dates were not that different immediately after reprimanding myself for using that same metaphor. I would hypothetically (hypotheticals —another journalistic no-no) continue on with my contradiction by saying that both columns and first dates require literally or metaphorically stripping down and exposing yourself with the intent of reaching some sort of new level with your partner. (Truth: I’d probably rather pose naked than have someone read my column right in front of me.)

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3. Don’t be too serious.

I first had this as “don’t be too political; nobody wants to hear it.” This advice was given to me by Sun readers who skip over the actual reading parts of The Sun and go straight on to the Sudoku. But if, on your first column, you want to laud the U.S.’ attempts at eliminating the Durka Durka Mohammed Jihads of this world, I have no problem with that, baby. Or with anything else political you might want to talk about. I just hope you are a little more articulate than Miss USA South Carolina 2007 (YouTube it).

4. Don’t front.

What I mean by this is that if you are indeed a very serious person, by all means please disregard number three and continue on with your seriousness. Imagine how disappointed your readers or date would be later on if they found out that the goofball they imagined you to be was as serious as James Lipton?

For me, not fronting means that I won’t even try to follow in the footsteps of former Sun writers. So for those of you whose advice to me was to write in the slightly awkward style of “Confessions of a Mental Patient,” or author a sex column like the always dead-on Jenna B. or write about sports like that sports columnist from last year who is currently living in New York and still unfortunately rooting for the same doomed Chicago teams — I will hereby acknowledge the aforementioned persons’ contributions, and apologize for being only, like, one sixth as cool.

Not fronting means coming up with your own original style, which, as the class of ’11 will learn soon enough, is sometimes hard to do in a campus of thousands of bright lights. This large pool of potential comparisons is intimidating both in the context of first columns and first dates.

I have a guy friend at home who watches self-help videos about how to pick up girls, taught by some self-proclaimed guru who probably goes home alone to a cobwebbed bed after filming every night. Not only is this “guru”’s advice totally off and totally misogynistic, but I think my friend is completely ridiculous for following his advice so closely: I’m talkin’ body gestures, hand motions, jokes, the whole nine yards.

The point is, to do your own thang and disregard the rules. Find what that thang is, find its absolute rhythm and follow it with the absolute trust (that was a quote from Zorba the Greek minus the “thang” part. Did the rhythm/trust thing break rule number three about not being too serious?).

The final point is, there is no conclusive list to guide you through writing a first column or going on a first date (or else I would have plagiarized that pre-existing list, thereby breaking rule number four about originality — hahh!). In case you haven’t noticed, I half-intentionally broke almost every rule on the list at least once. The only thing that I really do think is important on dates or columns is to have some sort of signature trait, a really awesome goodnight kiss if you will, to send shivers down your date’s — or reader’s — spine. In my column’s case, that’ll be a closing haiku.

As the cliché goes,

Just be yourself, and all night

Long, I’ll haiku you.

Ariela Rutkin-Becker is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be contacted at arbecker@cornellsun.com. Dude, Where’s My Karma?­ will appear alternate Tuesdays this semester.