[I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the epitome of prim and proper- heck, who really is nowadays? But looking around at the misguided youths of today *ahem drinking buddies*, I’m starting to think that Miss Manners might have been onto something.

While you may never need to know how to greet a duke or how to tell which fork is REALLY the oyster fork, knowing how to deal with people whom owe you money, how much to tip, and how to address the ever annoying licorice-in-teeth conundrum without being rude might actually come in handy in the real world. I'm not trying to be your mother - oh goodness, no - I'm just here to help you out of those little etiquette dilemmas.

So here goes: a quick lesson in etiquette. The sh*t you might actually need to know.]

Last weekend I went out to lunch with a male friend. The food was excellent and there wasn’t a dull moment in the conversation, however, when the check arrived (which the waiter was very careful to put in the center of the table, I might add), everything stopped. In the same instant, we lunged for the flimsy sheet of carbon copy, managing only to knock it off of the table for a nearby patron to pick up and hand to him (sexist). My friend proudly held the tab above his head, clearly the victor. He paid and I was stuck with the tip.

The incident got me thinking – when wining and dining, who pays?

It’s an age old question and with each decade comes a new answer. There was a time when the man ALWAYS paid (lest he be called a chauvinist cheapskate) and then a time when the woman physically wrestled the tab from the man (lest he get the upper hand). Nowadays, though, men and women are on a pretty equal playing field.

So, who pays?

Ideally, the person who does the asking should pay. Read More »

I like to think of myself as a progressive woman. I pay my own rent, buy my own drinks at the bar, and I don’t expect my boyfriend to have to pay for me. I am a big fan of the unspoken agreement we have where I’ll pick up the tab sometimes, and he’ll get it others. So far its been working out well, and I’ve had no complaints – until now. Two words: Birth Control.

As it seems, birth control is one of those things that the girl is expected to pay for, and I am not happy about it. Last week I went to pick up a few months worth of birth control and was completely shocked to hear the nurse say to me, “That will be $97 dollars.” I stared blankly, and peered into my brown paper bag, yep, there was still only 3 months worth in there. She must be mistaken, so I asked her to make sure.

Nope, $97 bucks. Obviously I have grown too accustom to the generous helpings of birth control that were handed out at the health center in college like candy. Free candy.

I sadly handed over my visa and thought of the darling little number at Banana Republic that I would have to put on the back burner for another pay check and went home.

Upon my arrival, my gent inquired as to my appointment. I jumped at the opportunity to share my outrageous bill and almost vaguely saw a ray of hope towards getting the outfit from Banana again! This would be the time when my gent says: “Whoa! $97 bucks?? I’ll give you some money for that.” Because lets face it, it is the right thing to do and as I recall, it takes two to tango.

This sentiment in mind, you can imagine my shock to hear this: Read More »