Today the New York Post's Jane Ridley introduces us to a man we weren't aware existed. He is a New York City-dwelling fellow who cares deeply and intimately about what he puts on his wrist — the fancier, the better! No cheap Swatches for this guy; no going nude-about-the-forearm. He has a name, per the Post. He is a member of a group of performers at an elite, tastefully scandalous after-hours revue who call themselves the "Rolex Romeos." No, but really, he's just a guy with really fancy taste in watches, perhaps more taste than he has brains, as Mom would say. Ridley amps it up a bit: "On the prowl for a hot young thing, New York men are shelling out more money than ever on wrist bling."
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Wait, what? There's more! "Awaiting the arrival of a potential beauty he met over the Internet, newly divorced Manhattan surgeon Robert Huang is sipping nervously from his drink, hoping he’ll pass muster on the cutthroat New York dating scene," Ridley writes. "Then he checks his diamond-studded Cartier gold watch (the flashy $80,000 timepiece he dug out from his drawer after the final divorce papers were signed), and instantly feels reassured."
All you need is to spend a normal person's savings from years of toil and get yourself a shiny new timepiece to strap onto your wrist and go! According to [the newly divorced] Huang, this is what women want: “Women want to see a man as being successful and, along with upscale clothes and shoes, a good watch is an established symbol of success." Another guy "was so enamored of his [new watch] purchase in December 2011, he wrapped it up and left it under the Christmas tree with a gift tag saying: ‘To Ken, Love Ken.'” Now, that's love; you certainly don't need anybody else to get you a gift that pales in comparison to the one you bought yourself!
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If a woman wants a guy with a nice watch and a guy gets a nice watch to get the lady he wants, perhaps they're a match made in a kind of heaven, though it's not where I hope to go when I shuffle off this mortal coil. But I suspect there's something deeper afoot than simply a discourse about someone's Patek Phillipe. What if the New York Post is semi-secretly presenting us with a map of the kind of date — or even boyfriend — that very paper might itself be? Let's say he's a he, just because, you know, "Romeos" and "Rupert Murdoch." Here are a few nuggets of information about him gleaned from recent stories:
At an outlet mall, he will deliver devastatingly corny lines without breaking a sweat.
And obviously: He wears a really, really, really nice watch.
Guys, courtship is not dead. It's just tired of reading about itself in the tabloids.
Image via Shutterstock by Kzenon.
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