When my girlfriend and I first started dating, we were spending a lot of time in New York. We would look at the Bergdorf Goodman windows and talk late into the night about them.
So when I decided to propose, I wondered if I could have a window done just for us….
When my girlfriend and I first started dating, we were spending a lot of time in New York. We would look at the Bergdorf Goodman windows and talk late into the night about them. “I want to live in that room.” “I want to dress this way.”
So when I decided to propose, I wondered if I could have a window done just for us. I got in touch with someone at Bergdorf and said, “You don’t know me, but I have this idea.” She said, “That’s not possible.” But I was persistent. So she called me back: “I talked to the brass here and they’re willing. However, a window will be too small, too hot. But… there’s a little room inside the store. We call it the rotunda.”
I had to sneak over to talk about the details and how we would set it up. We only had two weeks to pull it all together. On the big night, I was in jeans because I didn’t want my girlfriend to suspect. Meanwhile, I had the ring in one pocket, her nightgown in my other pocket, and my Prilosec. We took a carriage ride through Central Park. It was after hours, but the doorman at Bergdorf was waiting outside and he welcomed us by name. Inside, they had removed all the handbags out of the rotunda and in each of the alcoves was a nest for birds or a little something special to look at, beautiful painted peacocks and things from some of the windows we had seen. They had strung flower petals from the chandelier and there were candles everywhere and orchids.
And what was so perfect and precious was that, like some sort of midsummer night’s fantasy, it would evaporate. You knew it was there for an hour, and then it would go away. No one else would ever see it again.
After I proposed, we walked to our suite at the Pierre. When we looked back, we realized they had painted our initials inside a big heart onto one of the windows on Fifth Avenue. So we did get our window in the end.
“A lot of men want a woman to mother them. They get with a woman and all they do is regress to the point where you might think he might not be capable to take care of himself at all. I don’t want another mother. I want a woman. I want to rise to the occasion. I want to learn and bask in your glow. I want to protect you and do whatever I can to give you strength. There is no twist to this. I am not about to blow my brains out. You have not cut me up like others have. It’s just this. I want to love you with everything in me. I need your help because I don’t know anything about it. I am suspicious and ready to leave and hit the cold road for the frozen dawn. I am just going to trust you with everything in me. I see now that it’s the only reason to be here. After kissing you, I cannot remember what it was like to kiss any other woman. At this point I am not sure if I ever have.”—Henry Rollins
A long time ago, people used to accept personal sacrifice for the betterment of society as a whole. Once people accepted on mere virtue that honor was as important as the blood in one’s veins. Now, I would never say that the world has ever been perfect; there has been greed, hatred, and intolerance in every age. I won’t even go as far as to say that today is not the best time in the history of society. Yet today is the day when young adults head out each night to “get hammered” and “hook up”. There is no dignity, no sense of self-restraint! Cervantes said that a man today living his life to the code of chivalry would be considered a madman. Four-hundred years later, have we learned nothing? We live in times of indifference. We live in times where we forget that the path of least resistance is rarely the most rewarding! You can blame your lifestyle on your problems, or your problems on your lifestyle. The decision is yours. Restraint, respect, and the acceptance that your life is not yours alone! We are all connected by an unseen fiber and each of us must choose: do I take my own path and drag the world back, or do I push forward and bring the world with me? It matters not if a you are a single drop in the bucket, what matters is that you tried to make the world a better place. Raise your armaments; the mind, the pen, the body; and lead the charge. Live every day like it is your own revolution!
We love your body. If we’re in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything. Even if you’re insecure about something, we love your body. You feel like you’re not this or that? We love your body. We embrace everything. Because it’s you.
Speaking of your body, you don’t understand the power of your own smell. Any woman who is currently with a man is with him partly because she loves the way he smells. And if we haven’t smelled you for a day or two and then we suddenly are within inches of you, we swoon. We get light-headed. It’s intoxicating. It’s heady.
We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women. When you mention in passing that a certain woman is attractive — could be someone in the office, a woman on the street, a celebrity, any woman in the world, really — your comment goes into a steel box and it stays there forever. We will file the comment under “Women He Finds Attractive.” It’s not about whether or not we approve of the comment. It’s about learning what you think is sexy and how we might be able to convey it. It’s about keeping our man by knowing what he likes.
We also remember everything you say about our bodies, be it good or bad. Doesn’t matter if it’s a compliment. Could be just a comment. Those things you say are stored away in the steel box, and we remember these things verbatim. We remember what you were wearing and the street corner you were standing on when you said it.
Never complain about our friends — even if we do. No matter how many times we say a friend of ours is driving us crazy, you are not to pile on. Not because it offends us. But because it adds to the weight that we carry around about her.
Remember what we like. When I first started dating my husband, I had this weird fascination with the circus and clowns and old carnival things and sideshow freaks and all that. About a month after we started dating, he bought me this amazing black-and-white photo book on the circus in the 1930s, and I started sobbing. Which freaked him out. I thought, Oh, my God, I mentioned this three or four weeks ago and talked about it briefly, but he was really listening to me. And he actually went out and researched and found this thing for me. It was amazing.
We want you to order Scotch. It’s the most impressive drink order. It’s classic. It’s sexy. Such a rich color. The glass, the smell. It’s not watered down with fruit juice. It’s Scotch. And you ordered it.
Stand up, open a door, offer a jacket. We talk about it with our friends after you do it. We say, “Can you believe he stood up when I approached the table?” It makes us feel important. And it makes you important because we talk about it.
No shorts that go below the knee. The ones almost like capri pants, the ones that hover somewhere between the kneecap and the calf? Enough with those shorts. They are the most embarrassing pants in the world. They should never be worn. No woman likes those.
Also, no tank tops. In public at least. A tank top is underwear. You’re walking around in your underwear. Too much.
No man should be on Facebook. It’s an invasion of everyone’s privacy. I really cannot stand it.
You don’t know this, but when we come back from a date, we feel awkward about that transition from our cute outfit into sexy lingerie. We don’t know how to do this gracefully. It’s embarrassing. We have to find a way to slip into another room, put on the outfit as if it all happened very easily, and then come out and it’s: Look at me! Look at the sexy thing I’ve done! For you, it’s the blink of an eye. It’s all very embarrassing. Just so you know.
Panties is a wonderful word. When did you stop saying “panties”? It’s sexy. It’s girlie. It’s naughty. Say it more.
About ogling: The men who look, they really look. It doesn’t insult us. It doesn’t faze us, really. It’s just — well, it’s a little infantile. Which is ironic, isn’t it? The men who constantly stare at our breasts are never the men we’re attracted to.
There are better words than beautiful. Radiant, for instance. It’s an underused word. It’s a very special word. “You are radiant.” Also, enchanting, smoldering, intoxicating, charming, fetching.
Marriage changes very little. The only things that will get a married man laid that won’t get a single man laid are adultery and whores. Intelligence and humor (and your smell) are what get you laid. That’s what got you laid when you were single. That’s what gets you laid when you’re married. Everything still works in marriage: especially intelligence and humor. Because the sexiest thing is to know you.
“When a gentleman speaks, he hopes to sound wise, or-at the very least-he hopes to bring a smile to someones face. He never uses words to harm or demean another person. Even when he is silent, he can be eloquent, offering a listening ear, or a shoulder for a friend to lean upon.”—John Bridges & Bryan Curtis. As A Gentleman Would Say