A man I know pretends to be a hotel mogul, or at least the child of a hotel mogul, but more often than not, he strikes me as a compulsive liar. He pays exorbitant amounts of money for my friends to flounce about the hot spots of lower Manhattan and at every venue the management gives him the royal treatment. So we listen and nod when he rambles on about buying an island off the coast of Cuba and jetting off to Prague for a mid-week party trip.

This fellow wears his wealth on his sleeve, if that could be considered a viable turn of phrase, and he is no stranger to the Manhattan alpha-male penchant for calling girls repeatedly, even when those girls never answer. Some would deem this approach to be irritatingly idiotic—a classic mimbo move. But, I recently discovered that this mysterious hotelier is actually married … so the fact that he hammer-calls multiple girls under age 23 on a daily basis makes me think that he is nothing but a wanker—a determined wanker with speed dial numbers in the hundreds.

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