Recently a gentleman friend lamented that he’d been trapped into a dinner date by a girl he’d previously only bothered to see after 10:30PM for drinks and heavy petting.
If a lady isn’t worth sharing a meal with she isn’t worth swapping spit with.
Dear Fellas,
GQ has so graciously compiled an exhaustively titled list of “The Most Stylist Leading Men of the Past Half Century”, and they really knocked it out.* There are a load of them, so this might take a while. Pour yourself some whisky and read it all. Then read it again.
There is a lot to be gleaned from this piece, beyond who has been regarded as having an enviable wardrobe (“Style trumps fashion”). It’s not just the most typically masculine men that we found so appealing, there’s Gene Kelly - a diminutive dancer, and wormy Woody Allen defines neuroticism. And it’s not just the most impeccably dressed (re: the anecdote about Steve McQueen). There’s quite an array of men covered here, but it seems that the general consensus is that they were all present, engaging and authentic. When you think about the kind of man you want to be, maybe take some time to think about that.
Very Truly Yours,
SWF
*(Well, for reasons unknown, they included foot-faced Robert Pattinson, whose hobo style and dour countenance leaves much to be desired!)
Questions? Love letters? All top secret communiques can be sent to howdoyoudo@theswfproject.com
If you are a prosperous, motivated young man, it is inevitable that you’ll find yourself one day tied up with work and and late to meet a gal. In fact, this happened to me recently. On my way to his house I was informed, very regretfully, that he was running behind. I still wanted to see him, so I decided to park and bide my time at the pub around the corner from his house. When he was finally able to meet me, he came in and settled my tab. I could and would have happily paid for the rye I sipped while watching celebrity poker, but it was such a thoughtful gesture of apology for making me sit alone, fending off the advances of Blue Shirts, that any impatience or irritation was left in the bottom of my Old-Fashioned glass. Simple and probably not even worth mentioning, but it was nice to know that he understood that my time is valuable to me, and in return for his wasting said time, he would handle the tab I incurred. Something to think about.
(A Note for Clarification: This is not something I would put up with on a regular basis, or had I not known this gentleman for as long as I have. Really, the point here is that there are a plethora of ways to acknowledge that you respect a lady.)
Date Night 003 - The Museum of Jurassic Technology and The Mandrake
A few years ago, as a second or third date with a certain nebbish, east-coasty screenwriter, I suggested The Museum of Jurassic Technology. He had never heard of it, which was a suprise. I had figured everyone’s curiosity had led them to venture beyond it’s front doors at one time or another. Not much of it has changed since I discovered it; and yet each visit elicits a new story, a new understanding, a new spark. The museum itself is as curious and confusing as the name - there was no technology in the Jurassic period! - you say. It is a curio cabinet the size of a house and this is all you need to know. The experience is improved if you have no knowledge of what you’ll find inside. At the door, there is a suggested $5 donation. Gentlemen, I implore you to just pay this on the way in. Upon seeing the admission sign, my (suddenly irritating) date pursed his lips and suggested that we check the museum out first, and pay the donation on the way out, if we felt we had gotten our five dollars worth. Horrified, I stuttered that I was happy to pay up front, but he insisted. I mouthed a pathetic apology to the clerk as my date grasped my wrist and led me like a petulant child through to the next room. (Perhaps I should also mention that it is absolutely inappropriate to grab a lady’s wrist unless you’re pulling her from out of the line of immediate danger or doing something that you won’t be doing on a first/second/thrid date anyway…) While inside, allow yourself to move slowly. Let your date wander a little if she wants to. You’ll be sharing your personal space with her later. Don’t stay a step away from her through the hours you spend here, don’t talk too much and save your conversation for only your cleverest puns and witticisms.
After this, you can mosey north a mile to The Mandrake to discuss the canines of the Soviet Space Program over a selection from their interesting and antiquated cocktail menu. Technically, yes, they will serve you a PBR and a shot if you insist, though we suggest branching out and sampling something more along the lines of a Moscow Mule or Rose’s Garden. Ask that your date trust you, and order her a French 75, because this is one of the few establishments in the city that 1. offers the drink and 2. gets it right. It’s a simple, refreshing and potent combination of gin, champagne and lemon juice with a sugared rim, served in a martini glass. It tastes like a lightly carbonated lemonade and is sure* to ignite amorous intentions. If you’d like to get cute tell her that you had actually invented the drink while serving your country as a fighter pilot during the first World War, but that Franco-American jerk Raoul Lufbery stole your idea. The building is very nondescript from the outside. The inside is a narrow and dim art galley and bar. If you’re feeling particularly dashing, try finding the hidden booth behind the gallery.
Please note: The Mandrake closes early (midnight most nights), and the museum is only open the later half the week, so this date is ideal for a Sunday. What a wonderful world we live in! McSweeny’s-esque fun in an area of town less explored? Yes please.
*Speaking from personal experience, you’d have to be a lecherous toad with really poor grammar for this drink’s magical powers of seduction not to work.
If you’ve ever spent a sleepless night worrying about the right amount of pressure to exert when holding a lady while making out, please allow swf to clear this up:
If you create a pocket of space between you and the heaving bosom of your intended, you are being a weiner or you are at a junior high dance. If you try to get too masculine about it, you’re going to squeeze her too hard then you’re being an oaf or you’re about to enter an after school special date rape scenario. As neither option is pleasant or conducive to getting another shot at a session of smooching, please remember:
Are you holding her just hard enough to make her feel small and safe, but allowing enough room that she could easily wriggle away if she felt the need?
That’s the spot. Yes please.
Lets all work on ways to be more gracious naysayers.
I bet they felt really bad after Greg killed himself.
Here are the rules should you not have enough mileage on your mouth to know them.
- Frenching does not mean you jerk your tongue in concentric circles like a clock’s minute hand filmed in time lapse. The idea is to caress tongues, not to strip her of taste buds.
- Do not press your hot slimy tongue into her ear. Ear lobe nibbling is sexy. Cochlea mopping is not.
- Switch up your head angles lest you contract taco neck.
An improper tongue thrashing.
A steaming echo rushing down your ear canal is a mood killer.
Saturday nights are for necking at the Devil’s Night Drive-In, 240 W. 4th St. (at Broadway). The screenings are downtown on the third Saturday of every month on the top floor of a parking garage. The film (and the heavy petting) start when the sun sets so get there early for a good parking spot. The Drive-In is organized by the saucy Angel City Derby Girls who’ll skate your concessions right to your steamy window. It’s BYOB so buy a bottle of peach schnapps and get yourself a locker room story.
