I’m sure every sexy CC reader has gotten the awkward “Can I have yo numba?” from a not so appealing guy. While some of you are fine with flat out saying “No,” I’m looking to all the other ladies who  decide to give up their numbers (or more…) “just to be polite.” Now as Miss Manners, I am a huge advocate of good etiquette, but is humoring a guy you’re not really interested in really being polite?

Miss Manners says: Nope. It’s better and more respectable if you’re upfront with the guy rather than lead him on out of pity/kindness.  And, let’s be honest, you don’t want to have to screen your calls for the next 6 months out of fear that he’s not moving on….

Try one of these tactics to deliver the news instead:

Lie. Ahhh… The cornerstone of all etiquette: the white lie. Apologize and tell him that you have a boyfriend or tell him you dropped your brand new Blackberry down the toilet (true story). Yes, of course lying is bad and oft looked down on, but sometimes a white lie is more forgiving than the truth – as long as you don’t get too crazy with your story (“I have a penis”) and nobody gets harmed in the process.
Be wary of: Betting caught in your lie. Trust me, it’s pretty humiliating and you could end up with the “bitch” label. And news of a bitch spreads fast.

Politely excuse yourself… and run to the nearest restroom/exit. Say, “I’m sorry but I have to go,” with an air of finality so he gets the hint.
Be wary of: Him NOT getting the hint and waiting outside the bathroom door for you. Creepy? Yes. Possible? Definitely. Read More »

[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.]

I always leave salons with bad hair cuts. (Although I must admit the last one was my fault- it should have tipped me off right away when I realized the hair stylist did not speak a word of English.) Anyway, last week reader Josie asked us to feature an article on hair-salon etiquette: “manners pertaining communication with your hair dresser from conversation to tips, how to react if you don’t get the expected results, etc.” So here’s to you Josie..

Small talk. For most women (and some men), their hairstylist is their therapist, best friend, psychic, and lover (you know, hypothetically speaking) all rolled into one. What you tell them is completely up to you, but remember that while there is practically an unwritten rule about the stylist-stylee confidentiality, your stylist isn’t legally obligated to keep quiet. Just because you trust her to give you a killer hair-do, doesn’t mean you can trust her to not tell everyone about your cheating on your taxes, boyfriend, calculus exam, whatever. In fact, salons are havens for gossip, so just be careful.

On another note, if you don’t want to talk to the person cutting your hair, you really don’t have to. I’ve been there; once you run out of small talk (“Yes, it is hot outside, isn’t it?”) and have nothing more to add to the conversation, the silence gets pretty awkward. If you ever find yourself in this predicament, politely escape via magazine. Relax. It’s okay; just make sure to glance up now and then to make sure your hair is coming along the way you’d like.

Bad haircuts. What should you do if you end up with a bad cut? Ask them to fix it. And by “ask” I mean “tell.” Yes, it might be a pain in the butt for them to redo your hair, but remember that you’re paying them for the service. If your hair doesn’t come out exactly the way you want it to, it’s not rude to expect someone at the salon to fix it. It’s better for them if you speak up and get a haircut you love than to walk out unhappy and tell everyone where that mullet came from.

Note: This isn’t a free pass to be bitchy or to start crying and threaten her with the scissors. If you’re unhappy with the results, calmly explain to the stylist what’s wrong with the look, why it isn’t what you asked for, and offer up a suggestion on how to fix it.  This can usually be avoided by bringing a photograph/sketch of the exact style you want from different angles or explaining beforehand your definition of “just two inches.”

Tipping.

I hope that helped clarify some things. I’ve had my fair share of salon disasters (going in for red hair…coming out with purple?), so I’m pretty confident in these tips.

And once again, if you’ve got any etiquette conundrums, questions or gray areas you need help sorting out, let me know in the comments. I’ll be sure to help you out in next week’s column!

I’ve studied abroad.  But not really.  If you are currently studying abroad, or plan to in the future, I can assure you that my overseas experience was a bit different.  I began my college experience in London, rather than waiting until Junior year to try the whole passport-and-a-long-ass-flight routine.  Whenever I say, “I spent a year in London,” (I transferred during sophomore year), people assume I studied abroad.  I did not.

At my school, Americans who were enrolled in degree programs were labelled “Degree Students,” while Americans who were specifically there for a semester or two were labelled “Study Abroads.”  So, while I was an American sewing my wild oats just like you might be, there were some major differences.  I moved to the UK when I was 18, fresh out of high school.  I’d never had a keg party experience, I’d never lived in a dry dorm, and I’d never been to a major college sporting event.  Though I wasn’t always on my best behavior, my best friends were from all over the world, and I could see through their eyes how Americans earned bad raps as being obnoxious, immature, and annoying.  Make the most of your experience. Don’t make these mistakes.

1.  Do Know That Your Accent Says It All.

Have you ever heard an English person swear? I don’t care how “sodding” pissed off they are, it sounds so much nicer than an American politely asking, “Whaat tye-am is etttt?”  Most natives of whatever country you’re in won’t be instantly appalled by your accent, but they will know approximately where you hail from.

2. Don’t Get Wasted and Yell Things That Would Be Funny at Home.

As I just stated, your accent gives you away.  Which can work to your advantage… or not.  Screaming your school’s sports chant– P-I-T-T Let’s Go Pitt!– is not only loud and obnoxious, but do you really think the residents of Queensland, Australia give a f*** about the University of Pittsburgh?  Singing bar songs (American or otherwise) will also make everyone, including fellow Americans, want to punch you in the face.

Read More »

I came across this article the other day, an article about how chivalry is dead, and my generation is the one who killed it.

To prove her point, the article’s author explained how she’s often cat called when she walks down the street, and laments about the days when men tipped their hats and said “mornin‘” instead of leering at a pair of breasts and saying “yee!”

Even though I think she’s got a point when she talks about certain forms of traditional chivalry going out the window (the last time a man tipped his hat at me was…well, never, and not once has anyone ever thrown a jacket over a mud puddle), I’m pretty sure that using cat calls to define the death of chivalry is just plain incorrect.

Look, men have been cat calling women since the day they realized their mouths made sounds and breasts were awesome. Sure, Victorian dudes opened carriage doors for us and offered their elbow when the terrain got rough, but don’t think they weren’t whistling and jeering under those handlebar mustaches and cute little bowler hats. Perhaps they weren’t shouting “aye, mami!” when a fine looking bustle walked down the street, but you can bet a Victorian chick knew when a Mr. Darcy was hating to see her leave, but loving to see her go. Read More »

Now, not to brag or anything, but my mama raised me right. I was always taught to say Please and Thank you, excuse myself from the dinner table before getting up to do homework (alright, who am I kidding? It was more to watch MTV, write angsty poetry and/or try to sneak smoking cigarettes out of my basement window) and I always had to be polite. To everybody. Friends, neighbors, strangers, that disgusting kid with bad breath and UFO pants that sat next to me on the bus – everybody.

I don’t blame her for wanting me to grow up (not-so) tall and grow up right, but over the years I have found myself in a plethora of situations that have crossed that fine line between being polite and looking like a complete f!@#$cking pushover (sorry for the swear word, Mom!).

I’m the girl who will let you copy her notes from the entire semester before the final without asking for a single thing in return. I’m the girl who will pick you up from some random, I-swear-he-was-so-much-hotter-last-night guy’s house the morning after– even if we’ve only met twice. I’m the girl who will buy you beer (which includes picking it up and dropping it off at your doorstep) for the fourth time in a week and not mention the fact that you stiffed me about ten dollars.

And I’m the girl who – no matter how hard I try – can not for the life of me tell my douchebag ex-boyfriend to f@#ck off – and that NO, he can not completely plagiarize my paper from last semester even though I am, obviously, an amazing writer with an impeccable way with words.

Basically, I need to grow some balls. Read More »

Here’s the thing; you should never date a douchebag.

Now, sometimes, you don’t know you’re dating a douche until it’s too late. Maybe he’s awesome in the beginning, opening doors for you and being all polite and totally charming your parents, but then one day he decides to not only sleep with your best friend, but do it in your bed!

Sometimes, that sort of thing is hard to see coming.

Except when your guy looks the part.

See, if you start dating a guy who looks like he should be a total douche, but hasn’t yet shown the signs of real douchyism, chances are his true colors are going to be coming out pretty soon.

Nobody with oily hair, a body shaped by beer, couches, and pot, stupid fashion sense, and a monosyllabic speech pattern is going to turn out awesome in the end. You may think you can change this douche’s ways, get him on the fast track to a job and maybe the treadmill, but believe me—douchiness is almost impossible to stamp out.

Which is why I have no sympathy for Lindsay Lohan and her newest “scandal”. Apparently, her boyfriend for two minutes, Riley Giles (who she met in rehab. Cool!) is shopping around “personal photos” he took of her while they were dating. Obviously, those pics show LaLohan in all stages of “undress”, and are going to seriously tarnish her sweet, virginal image.

Well, okay. Chances are they’ll do nothing but prove what most of us already think, but still, who wants homemade nakey pictures of them sold to cheap tabloids? Read More »

Chivalry is not dead. It’s alive and well—or, at least alive.Since moving to New York, I have come across varying degrees of gallantry. Some is well intentioned and friendly; while some has a faded, slightly sour quality. Some acts of chivalry are carried out with genuine kindness, and some are done because the guy can’t bare the thought of letting a woman exert any kind of power.

How do you know what level of chivalry you’re getting on a daily basis? Read on.

LEVEL 1: On this, the brightest and friendliest level, the guy is being polite and helpful because he wants to be. Opening a door for you, standing up so you can take his seat on the subway, giving you room to pass on the sidewalk, all of these things are done with a smile and a pleasant glance. This guy’s mama taught him well, and it’s no trouble at all for him to show women that he holds them in high esteem.

Although it’s rare, this level does indeed exist, and I recommend immediately inquiring if such a polite lad has a partner, and if finding him to be single, snatching him up as quick as possible. Read More »

I live in New York City. Therefore, I should be used to Random Acts of Rudeness. Small things should no longer phase me. But because I am a nice, sweet, mostly polite girl, I am still very often radically offended and crazily frustrated by rude people acting obnoxiously. Here are a few examples of my most recent run-ins with RAR.

• At a job interview, the interviewer answers his blackberry not once, not twice, but three times in the middle of my answers to his questions. No sorry, hold on a moment, just a complete switch from looking at me and listening to typing away on his stupid toy. Each time he would chuckle at whatever inside joke was taking place on the tiny screen, leaving me nothing to do but admire the bare walls and stare out the window. Needless to say, I’m taking that job the day hell freezes over. Read More »