AN ATTITUDE STRAIGHT OUT OF THE BOOK.

Byline: Jenifer Hanrahan Daily News Staff Writer

The disc jockey is playing ``Brick House.''

God, I really want to dance.

But I can't ask the guy next to me. And I certainly can't head into the glow of the multi-colored strobe lights alone.

Because tonight I'm playing by ``The Rules: Time-tested Secrets for Capturing the Heart of Mr. Right,'' an advice book that's been on The New York Times best-seller list for 17 weeks.

The objective is not to have fun, but to snare my future husband. The book tells women that landing a devoted husband is as easy as following 35 rules, most of which are aimed at outwitting men whom the authors assume have the emotional depth of Mr. Potato Head.

Men, they say, are pursuers. They won't fall in love unless a woman gives them a chase. So, while the guys hunt and gather phone numbers, we pick up a stack of books to learn ``How to Make a Man Fall in Love With You,'' ``How Not to Stay Single,'' and ``How to Find the Right Man,'' the latter of which offers this gem: Women will find a better male-female ratio when it rains or snows. ``When the weather turns bad, many women stay home. Men, on the other hand, are less likely to change their plans because of the weather.''

Huh?

The book comes with wallet-sized crib sheets for jotting down opening lines, such as: ``Hi. How are you?'' and ``Hi. My name is ...''

Another helpful hint: ``Don't wear a ring on your wedding-ring finger.'' (That's not to be confused with ``Don't wear your wedding ring.'')

But by far the most alarming - not to mention nauseating - reading was ``The Rules.''

The authors instruct women to ``hike up'' their skirts, wear black pantyhose and douse themselves with ``intoxicating perfume.'' They promise that if a woman is passive and patient enough, it's only a matter of time before a man will prostrate himself in front of her and beg her to marry him.

So I wiggle into a silver minidress and make my hair really big. I go to Yankee Doodles in Woodland Hills where I try out Rule No. 1: ``Be a creature unlike any other.''

Women can leave guys ``hungry for more'' by being ``demure'' and ``mysterious.'' He's supposed to ``catch you in motion,'' so the authors suggest walking, briskly, around the bar.

Rather than make eye contact with men, we should ``smile at the universe.''

After seven or eight laps, I start to wonder if it's safe to stop.

Rule No. 2: Don't talk to a man first (and don't ask him to dance.) Women should ``trust in the natural order of things.'' Even a shy guy will approach a woman he truly desires.

Several men grab my arm and grunt some variation of ``oh, mama.'' I wonder if that counts.

When Gloria Gaynor starts singing ``Once I was afraid, I was petrified,'' most of the women go bolting for the dance floor. I continue to walk in circles, smile at the universe, and otherwise act like an alien.

After 42 minutes, I am starting to get desperate. I want to smile directly at those morose-looking faces lining the walls and give them some encouragement. Unfortunately, the ``Rules'' demands a lifetime commitment.

Rule No. 3: ``Don't stare at men or talk too much.'' The book says that ``looking at someone first is a dead giveaway of interest.'' Heaven forbid.

I try to ignore the lone older man doing some sort of calisthenics/``Saturday Night Fever'' routine on the dance floor. He must like me, because when I say ``No thanks, I don't want to dance with you,'' he mistakes it for ``Let's boogie!''

I figure I've blown it - nowhere does ``The Rules'' mention making a spectacle of yourself - until a man turns to me and says: ``You were very brave to dance with that guy.''

``Thank you,'' I say, batting my eyelashes, diverting my gaze and trying to look coy, yet indifferent. Mysterious. A Rules Girl.

He looks like he is about to say something else, thinks better of it, and turns back to his drink.

Next, a tall man taps me on the shoulder. ``You looked good out on the dance floor,'' he says.

``Thanks,'' I say, hoping to sound self-effacing, not ``chatty.'' Men don't like ``chatty'' women, the book says.

``Well, enjoy the rest of your evening,'' he says and turns his back to me.

It's about time for another lap, another drink. It's getting harder to smile at the universe. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was born to be a wallflower, when a guy comes up to me and says: ``I like your dress. Silver is my favorite color.''

``Thank you,'' I say, hoping that I sound mysterious.

In seconds, another woman strides up and cups her hand over his ear. Before I can bat my eyelashes, before I can even try to act indifferent, they are dancing.

I notice a woman with long dark hair in a short red dress. She looks happy. So happy that she seems to be ... smiling at the universe! Another Rules Girl!

But before I can bond with her, a man takes her arm, and leads her into the crowd of gyrating bodies. Determined to find out what I'm doing wrong, I intercept her.

``Are you a Rules Girl?'' I say.

``Give me a break,'' she says. ``I'm a single mom. That tactic would probably work in the '50s. Do you think men always want to approach you? ... I come here with the attitude that I'm going to have a good time and I'm going to dance, whether I have to ask him, or if he asks me.''

That's the best advice I've heard all night. But then again, ``The Rules II'' is due out in October.

CAPTION(S):

2 Photos

Photo: (1--Cover--Color) The Dating Game

He: What's your sign?

She: What's your problem? (Ken & Barbie)

(2) If you believe the hype, the newest wave of self-help books offers a no-fail recipe for the human mating game.

David Sprague/Daily News