Billionaire Beast

“Glad you asked,” I tell her.

“Oh God, here it comes…” she groans.

“When a man and a woman are going from being single to being in a relationship, there are a few things about not only their mannerisms, their mood, and general demeanor, but there are changes to the way they look as well,” I tell her. “Women will often show a little more skin around their new beau, while men tend to walk with their shoulders back, more confidence.”

“Have you ever noticed how, in every possible situation where men and women have to do something, the men always have it easier?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I answer. “I have, actually. Doesn’t really seem fair. Anyway, so I want you to think back to the first couple of weeks with your last boyfriend. What changed?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I guess I spent a little more time on my hair.”

“Great,” I tell her. “Get back in the bathroom and work on your hair a little longer.”

“Excuse me?” she retorts, in a tone that tells me that I’ve crossed some line.

“I’m telling you to do the things that you would normally do if we were actually in a new relationship,” I tell her. “There’s no reason to get all pissy about it.”

If I’d avoided use of the word pissy, I probably could have gotten through that all right. As it stands, though, it takes me a good 20 minutes to talk her into listening to me again.

“I’ll tell you what,” I tell her finally, “why don’t we take the next hour to go over things that we do ourselves at the beginning of a new relationship and see what we come up with. I, for one, start shaving twice a day rather than once, so I’m going to go in the bathroom and do that. If you need to get in there for your hair, I’m sure we can both fit.”

She’s still skeptical, but eventually she agrees to go along with what I’m telling her to do.

I haven’t told her about hump practice yet.

We take some time to get ready the way we would if we were actually dating each other, and the results, while often subtle, are rather striking.

I, for one, am very clean-shaven, wearing a semi-formal dinner outfit, cologne, and enough hair gel for either boy band membership or to choke a walrus, depending on whichever one of those options turns out to be funniest. Emma, along with her hair going from a ponytail to a stunning updo, is wearing a dress and extra jewelry. I actually didn’t realize her ears were pierced until just now.

“Real quick,” she says as we both take care of finishing touches, “I think this is going t

o work better if you pick me up.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Like carry you over the threshold or something?”

“No, I mean, if you come by the room to pick me up for our date tonight. Our characters don’t live together, and it’s not until the end of the movie that they’d be likely to share a hotel room together.”

“Yeah, there is such a thing as going too method,” I tell her. “For one thing, we’re going to have to learn how to sleep together in only two nights, so I don’t think we’re going to want to get separate hotel rooms just yet. For another, we’re going to have to be pretty solid on all the visible aspects of the relationship the movie’s going to cover, so it wouldn’t make much sense to spend any time apart while we’re here.”

“Just role-play,” she says. “Go out into the hallway, walk around for a couple of minutes, and knock on the door. It’ll help me get in the mindset.”

“All right,” I agree. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

We stand there and look at each other a minute.

“Yeah, so any time you’re ready to pop out there, that would be great,” she says.

“Oh,” I answer. “All right, I’ll be back to pick you up in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she says, and walks me to the door. “Remember to give it a few minutes.”

“All right,” I tell her, and I walk out the door.

You know, this is a pretty good addition to the relationship weekend. In the future, I’m sure I’ll want to figure out something better than just walking around the halls a couple of minutes, but it’ll be good to cover the anticipation of getting picked up or picking someone up.

I walk around the halls for a few minutes and, after knocking on the wrong door and being held captive in conversation with the occupant of that room for what has to be a good 20 minutes, I make my way back to our hotel room door.

I knock.