I’m getting married this summer and thought it might be a good idea to speak with some gentlemen who I suspected could give me some pointers.
It was raining on a Friday morning when I met Bo Dietl at his office on the 50th floor of One Penn Plaza. Despite some shreds of cloud, Mr. Dietl—a homicide detective turned security consultant and media darling—had a clear view of the city below and, off in the distance, in the middle of the choppy harbor, the Statue of Liberty. Every surface of his office seemed to be covered with awards and framed pictures of Mr. Dietl with folks like O.J. Simpson and Bill Clinton. The day before, Staten Island Congressman Vito Fossella had admitted to having an extramarital affair resulting in a secret love child. “Poh, Baby!” blared an issue of the New York Post resting on a nearby chair.
“You know what I think the problem with relationships is?” said Mr. Dietl. “People search real, real hard for love, and the word ‘love’ is passed out—like my daughter, her friends, say, ‘Goodbye, I love you.’ Love, love, love—the word ‘love’ is thrown around too easily.”
He leaned back in his leather chair. He wore a blue shirt—made from the best Egyptian cotton, he told me—with a white collar. His cuff links were square sapphires lined with diamonds. On his hip, he wore a holstered Glock pistol. His round face was deeply tanned, tight and shiny, enhanced by well-kept white stubble.
“It’s nice to say you love someone,” Mr. Dietl continued. “But the truth of the matter is I’m 57 years old, and I never felt love until maybe I was 53 years old, and I was through one marriage, and I had two children through marriage, and I wasn’t exactly the best husband in the world, and what with my job being a New York homicide detective, and with all the rah-rah’s running around—I was a bad boy, I was a cheater, admittedly, and I wasn’t happy.”
Like the congressman from Staten Island, Mr. Dietl said he himself had a secret love child. Or two.
He went on, noting that he’s seen many good marriages torn apart by unnecessary adulterous affairs, frequently committed by bored, pampered wives. The key to a relationship, he told me, is communication. Especially in the bedroom.
“When you are making love, ask her what she likes: ‘Is this good?’” said Mr. Dietl. “Don’t think that because you are endowed with a large penis, you’re jumping on top and ramming and ramming, that you can make her feel great. You know the whole thing is about her feeling good.”
He gave me a serious look. “There are a lot of women,” he said, “who are not reaching orgasms.”
“People think it’s all about how long you do it, and this size bullshit,” he said. “You know what? Size doesn’t matter. … The majority of the women are not into 12- or 14-inch penises because it hurts them. When you are making love, and you have aroused her sexually, to that plateau, where every part of it is romantic, where you kiss all over the body from her head to her feet—that’s lovemaking. Not jumping on top and ram-a-dama ding-dong—that don’t mean crap.”
Mr. Dietl said he began dating his fiancée, Margo, seven years ago, but only four years ago did he realize that he was in love.
“To me, being in love with someone is you wake up, you go to sleep, thinking about that person,” he said. “She’s my best friend, she’s my soul mate, we think the same. The only problem is that she has the same personality as mine, so when there’s an argument, there’s no give, it’s like a car crash, head on. But I think we are starting to handle it, because we understand each others’ personalities.”
He gestured at a calendar girl in a bikini on the wall. “I can look at a Playboy playmate, 19-, 20-year-old, a hot, young tight-body babe, and you know, that’s there, that’s there, it looks good, and I’m a man. But if I weigh it out, and I weigh it with what I have …” He added that people shouldn’t be afraid of incorporating role-playing and pornography into their sex lives to keep things fresh.
I emerged from One Penn Plaza feeling woozy. Back at my office, I phoned someone who might also have some wise words on marriage, Raoul Felder, the famous divorce lawyer.
“You want my advice on marriage?” he said. “I got three words: Pre. Nuptial. Agreement.”
“The divorces are getting uglier, because there’s a certain quantum of anger in these relationships, and because divorce is becoming basically no-fault, they end up fighting about kids and money. And they get much meaner and tougher,” said Mr. Felder, 71.
And his own marriage? He and his wife are still married. What’s the secret?
“Fear. My wife is a divorce lawyer. I gotta run, kid.”