The Strategic Communication Dilemma and Winning Hearts with Craft, Not Trickery By Haroon Aremu
In the hum of our brightly lit office, my colleague and I, two people whose careers were built on the precise art of talk, leaned forward, trading arguments like fencers. We were locked in a delicious, morally complex debate: the scandalous theory that makes public relations pros secretly cheer and high-minded moralists frown.
Could a true master of strategic communication weave such a compelling spell that he could bypass the sturdy emotional firewall of a serious, modern woman and gently coax her into genuine affection? The secret, we insisted, wasn’t about cheap magic tricks or sleight of hand. It wasn’t about telling lies. This conquest demanded pure, sculpted craft: the careful application of deep empathy (seeing the world through her eyes), impeccable timing (knowing exactly when to speak and when to be silent), a captivating narrative (telling a story she wants to be part of), and unwavering honesty.
I originally thought about naming this piece, “Viral Hearts: How a Strategic Communicator Learnt to Woo.” But, for the sake of doing things the right way and keeping a clear conscience, the title wouldn’t be complete without adding, “Ethically, Creatively, and Without Letting Love Become a Malware”. Please don’t jump to conclusions and picture anything dishonest. We weren’t planning to deceive anyone; we were simply discussing the right way to use persuasion.
The Nigerian Institute of Public Relations demands we keep a good professional reputation. The tools we use for our job must never be used as magic tricks to manipulate people. But remember, as communicators, we have powerful instruments like our language, how we frame things, when we keep quiet, and knowing the right questions to ask. When we use these tools well, we create a real connection; when we use them badly, they become weapons.
Any communicator who wants to “woo” someone needs to ask themselves a key question: Am I building a connection, or am I writing a computer program? Am I inviting someone to share things back with me, or am I just trying to force them to agree? You should use your talents to create relationships that are agreed upon and joyful—not to try and program how someone feels.
That evening, I suggested a fun little test, a small opening line I used back when I was less cautious: “Tell her, with a smile, to Google ‘the first Philippine virus.'”. This is designed to spark her curiosity and watch the conversation shift in an unexpected direction. She will find the story of the ILOVEYOU worm—an early 2000s destructive digital “love letter.” That one simple prompt is a great test of storytelling: it makes her curious, it starts a conversation about a shared moment in culture, and it becomes the link to deeper talk.
But why the ILOVEYOU virus? And why does this odd, slightly nerdy prompt make for a good opening? To answer that, we must step back.
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The *ILOVEYOU* worm struck in May 2000, originating from the Philippines. It arrived in inboxes with the subject line “ILOVEYOU” and an attachment that looked like a text file. When opened, the attachment executed a Visual Basic script that overwrote files, stole passwords, and propagated itself by using victims’ address books. In weeks it spread globally, infecting millions of machines and costing businesses and governments *billions* in damage.
The worm became a cultural parable: an irresistible message that promised intimacy but delivered devastation. It was, in a bitterly literal way, a love message that burned.
That paradox is why I sometimes whisper “search the ILOVEYOU virus” as a flirt. It’s an intellectual tease: we’re saying, *love is contagious, and persuasion can be viral — but without safeguards, contagious becomes corrosive.* The stories people find about ILOVEYOU make room for a conversation about authenticity, risk, trust, and the ethics of influence: perfect entry points for a meaningful, playful exchange.
But there is a lesson beneath the flourish: persuasion without consent or care can destroy. As communicators, as lovers, and as citizens, our responsibility is to ensure our influence heals, not harms.
If you want to have a healthy living and possess a quality healthy loving or want to be persuasive in the long run? Invest in yourself. The most magnetic people I’ve met combine communicative skill with basic self-care:
Sleep and presence a rested person is attentive; attention is the currency of intimacy.
Movement and mood: regular exercise steadies emotion and sharpens empathy.
Mental hygiene: therapy or reflective practice prevents your wounds from hijacking relationships.
Gentle technology use:be the person who looks up from their phone during conversation; it signals priority.
If attraction is a spark, healthy living is the oxygen that keeps it burning without scorching the furniture.
The ethical plot twist is that the ILOVEYOU story is a parable: a message that looked like romance but acted like malware. The communicator who can “woo” must ask: am I crafting connection or code? Am I inviting reciprocity, or engineering compliance? Use your gifts to build consented, joyful relationships — not to program feelings.
We communicators may joke we’ll still have work in heaven — every being needs a message, after all — but our work here, today, is to practice a craft that honours dignity. The greatest persuasion is the kind that leaves both parties freer than before.
So the next time you find yourself wanting to impress a woman — or anyone, really — try something modest and honest: ask her to Google the ILOVEYOU virus not to shock, but to laugh, to learn, to open a subject. Then put your phone away and ask genuinely about her answer.
If love is to spread, let it be the kind that heals — not the kind that burns.
Haroon Aremu Abiodun is a writer whose works cut across human-interest stories. He can be reached via [email protected].
