The gentleman would like you to enjoy this glass of water, with his compliments.
The gentleman would like to know if you’re going to eat those potatoes.
The gentleman is curious as to the exact hue of your unmentionables.
The gentleman would like to be the excuse for the ruin of your current, unsatisfying relationship.
The gentleman would dearly like to buy you a drink; however, he cannot afford it, and in fact he would like you to buy him a drink.
The gentleman would like to see what you look like pregnant.
The gentleman would like you to humiliate him in front of his mother and brothers.
The gentleman would like to inquire as to the brand of moustache wax you use.
The gentleman would like you to know that, regardless of how you react to his advances, he’s decided to use you as his masturbation fodder for the next two and a half weeks, at least.
The gentleman would like to have a furtive, abortive, unacknowledged and ultimately self-destructive relationship with you.
The gentleman would like to change your religion.
The gentleman would like to lick your tattoo.
The gentleman would like to experience the breadth of your maternal instincts, first-hand.
The gentleman would like an opportunity to win and then subsequently to lose your respect.
The gentleman would like to project every unrealistic ideal of womanhood he has upon you in an unfair way.