Yes, New York, the doorman really does know all your worst secrets

When Park Avenue doorman Stephen Bruno sorts through the building mail and sees an envelope with sexually suggestive images, he and his colleagues immediately know who it’s for.“We don’t have to look at the name, because we know whose it is,” he told The Post of a certain resident who also had a habit of suggestively eating pawpaw fruit in the lobby.In his new book, “Building Material: The Memoir of a Park Avenue Doorman,” Bruno dishes on the two decades he’s spent working for New York’s one-percenters and the intimate glimpses into their lives he’s gotten.

“They’re often stressed out and spaced out.They’re somewhere else,” Bruno told The Post.

“They say hello, they’re still courteous, but you can tell that something is weighing heavy on them, and it’s often business.A lot of them are in finance.” Raised in the Bronx, Bruno was 22 when he was hired as a summer relief doorman at a building on Park Avenue.

Now 42, he’s still working as an Upper East Side doorman and has spent the last 14 years in the same building.During one of his first overnight shifts at a tony co-op, he was reading a newspaper when he heard the “ping” of the elevator, and watched as a tall man in a long bathrobe emerged.The bathrobe was untied, revealing a “very orange” inner thigh.

The man then began to awkwardly stretch in front of Bruno before commenting that had he known how handsome the doorman was, he would have come downstairs sooner.“He liked what he liked, and he figured you’d play along,” said Bruno.“He was a strange man,”Over the years, he’s been privy to the romantic inclinations of various residents from hot dates to late-night rendezvous.

He knew when two residents became involved with each other when he’d see them taking the elevator between floors in the wee hours of the morning on his overnight shifts.Another resident had a girlfriend that would come around during the day, but at night he’d entertain gentlemen.

“G...