It's not that they're actually ever mad at the valet. They just want him to learn.

And, when you think about it, they're really doing him a favor.

You could even call it "broblesse oblige."

They do.

The point is, never, ever bend a Porsche key.

There is an Uber for Helicopters. It's called Blade. It goes to the Hamptons.

Also, frozé is a thing now?

They put their work calls on speaker when you're hanging out. This may be foreplay. You will never be sure.

But they will repeatedly make it clear that they think you should write a New York Sex Diary about them.

Like, obviously they don't want you to, but it'd be kind of funny if you did.

No, but you totally should, though. If you want.

It'd be nice to leave a legacy somewhere—you know?

You should be having more sex with them, given the number of times that they bring up the whole Sex Diary thing, but they're super stressed right now.

Maybe you could just smoke some weed and listen to the new John Mayer album together?

That'd be nice.

They just need to send, like, three more e-mails before C.O.B.

O.K., maybe four?

They really wish that they were more present in the moment. They apologize for not being more present in the moment.

(It's the only time they've ever apologized to you for anything.)

Being present in the moment means popping half a Xanax and heading to the hotel sauna without you.

When they return, the two of you still don't have sex.

That said, sex does make them momentarily forget the imminence of death.

They mention this only once, stoned, and will never discuss it again.

They will take you to very trendy experimental-cocktail bars that they read about on Gothamist. They will encourage you to try something with twenty ingredients. They will order an Old Fashioned.

Every. Single. Time.

They are surprised and impressed by men who have wives their own age.

They get choked up when their bosses tell them to "have a happy Christmas."

They love their fathers.

Really.

They're going to give up drinking for Lent.

They're going to lose twenty pounds not drinking.

They're going to finally quit their job and move to rural New Hampshire to get a Ph.D. in the humanities and take long walks with a very large dog.

They don't.

They secretly read Jezebel, sometimes.