You Have Become a Five-Star Girlfriend and Sir Is Still Almost Satisfied

A woman can do an astonishing amount once she gets the idea that one more lovely thing might finally make Sir completely happy.

At first, it is simply thoughtfulness. You remember how he likes his coffee, which side of the bed he prefers and the tiny things that make his day easier. This is one of the pleasures of loving somebody. You notice. You remember. You make room for him.

But after a while, you begin noticing something rather peculiar.

No matter how thoughtful you are, Sir never seems completely satisfied. He is almost satisfied, which is somehow much more effective.

If only you could do this one little thing.

Then perhaps one more.

And since you are already doing that, there is another tiny adjustment that might make everything even better.

Before long, that innocent little “one more thing” has gathered a few friends and become quite the little collection.

You are remembering, arranging, anticipating, smoothing, improving—and Sir, meanwhile, is becoming increasingly accustomed to excellent service.

At some point, the relationship begins feeling less like romance and more like room service.

And Sir?

Sir appears to have checked in as a VIP guest at a five-star hotel.

Sir Checks In

The first few improvements hardly seem worth mentioning. Better sheets. Nicer towels. His favorite coffee.

You are not running a hotel. Goodness, no. You simply care.

But Sir has a curious way of noticing the one small thing that could make an already lovely experience just a touch lovelier, and because you are a thoughtful woman, you notice him noticing.

So one little improvement produces another.

Then another.

Before long, you are no longer simply making Sir comfortable. You are quietly improving the entire guest experience.

Sir Has a Few Preferences

Naturally, once Sir has been staying for a little while, certain preferences begin making themselves known.

- First, the sheets. Cotton is perfectly respectable, of course, but Sir has sensitivities. Silk might be kinder. And if we are changing the sheets anyway, we may as well make sure they are the particular kind of silk that does not become too warm during the night. Sir sleeps better that way.

- Then we come to the bathroom. The body wash provided is lovely, but perhaps a little fragrant for Sir. Something organic and unscented would be safer. And since we are already dealing with the bathroom, the towels could be softer too. Actually, if we are replacing the towels, we might as well choose them in Sir’s favorite color. One hates to do these things halfway.

- The room itself is beautiful, although Sir does prefer a view. West-facing would be lovely because he enjoys evening light. Not too much direct evening light, naturally. Sir likes sunsets. Sir does not like glare.

- The balcony is charming, although two proper chairs and a little table would improve matters enormously. Balancing coffee on one’s knee is hardly the sort of hardship Sir checked into a five-star relationship to endure.

- And since Sir occasionally likes to unwind with television, perhaps his preferred channels could already be arranged. Scrolling through forty-seven things he does not want to watch seems unnecessarily demanding after the day Sir has had.

- Then the pillows become a subject. Sir has a neck. Naturally, options are required.

- Breakfast is another delicate matter. It cannot simply arrive at eight-thirty because Sir may not yet be hungry at eight-thirty. On the other hand, once hunger does present itself, Sir dislikes waiting. So breakfast must somehow sense the moment.

- Coffee should be strong, but not aggressive.

- Toast should be crisp, but not “hard.”

- Fruit is always welcome, provided nobody has become overexcited with melon.

- The robe is beautiful. Very plush. Sir likes it enormously. The sleeves are just a little long.

- Room service has been excellent too, although Sir did mention once that he prefers the fries slightly thinner. Nothing worth making a fuss about. We can simply alert the kitchen.

- Housekeeping should probably come later because Sir enjoys a slow morning. Housekeeping should also, somehow, know exactly when Sir has finished enjoying it.

- The minibar can be adjusted while we are at it. His favorite sparkling water, one particular chocolate and absolutely nothing he considers unnecessary. Sir dislikes opening a refrigerator and being confronted by beverages with no personal relevance.

- And perhaps the concierge could quietly make a note that Sir dislikes standing in line. Naturally, Sir has no objection to the line continuing for everybody else.

- After a while his favorite newspaper begins appearing each morning without anyone asking. This is simply good service.

- The restaurant now knows which table Sir prefers: away from the kitchen, the door, the speaker, the air vent and anyone celebrating anything loudly.

- The bath has also reached exactly the temperature Sir likes and, by this stage, is probably capable of maintaining it without supervision.

- As for the pillows, we may need to revisit them. The first pillow menu was perfectly good, but now that Sir has had time to think about it, perhaps the selection was a little limited.

At this stage, the hotel is no longer offering hospitality.

It has begun studying Sir.

And Somehow You Are Still Being Reviewed

The guest, naturally, is doing extremely well. Sir is sleeping beautifully, his towels are agreeable, his coffee has found precisely the right level of confidence and breakfast understands him. Even the fries have finally accepted constructive criticism.

And yet, after all this, you are somehow the one feeling a little less than five-star.

That is the curious part.

Sir does not have to stand in the lobby announcing that you are failing him. Nothing so exhausting. A small disappointment here, a faint lack of enthusiasm there, one little suggestion about how something might be nicer—and suddenly another improvement seems like a perfectly sensible idea.

Perhaps you could be more patient, more affectionate, maybe a little less demanding. A touch more spontaneous would be lovely too, while naturally continuing to remember everything. And when Sir needs space, you could be understanding about that, yet somehow remain beautifully available the moment he no longer requires it.

Goodness. The pillow menu was easier.

Before long, something rather sneaky has happened. Every time Sir seems dissatisfied, you begin looking around for what else you can improve—not the guest, naturally. The hotel.

So you become a little softer, a little easier, a little more accommodating. You forgive faster, ask for less, anticipate more and quietly carry the little inconveniences downstairs yourself.

Meanwhile, Sir becomes increasingly comfortable. Of course he does. Five-star service has that effect on a man.

And by then the picture is wonderfully absurd: one person is receiving an extraordinary amount of care while the other is still wondering whether she has done enough to deserve a good review.

The sheets are right, the towels are right and the balcony is right. The coffee is no longer aggressive, the fries have reached the approved thickness, Sir no longer has to stand in line and even his neck has options.

And somehow you are still wondering what else might make you good enough.

That is quite a lot of pressure to put on housekeeping.

Because at some point, the room stopped needing improvements. Sir was already extremely comfortable.

The hotel had reached five stars several upgrades ago.

The only thing still being treated as unfinished was you.