Mind your manners

In the 3rd grade, Mrs. Caliandro scolded me, quite rightly, for licking my dinner knife at the table. Let me preface this by saying that lunch at St. B's was an affair. We sat at tables by class and we would eat under the watchful eye of a teacher. We would be expected to eat with proper manners, and to engage in discussion. Essentially, every lunch was like Thanksgiving dinner, and you were on your best behavior. Inevitably, boys will be boys, but we obeyed the rules of the game. We asked to be excused. We used our utinsels properly. We asked things to be passed to us. I'm probably the only person I know who never got the Grey Poupon commercials. How utterly sensible it all seemed.

I spent time learning both the Continental style (fork stays in left hand) and American style (fork shifts to right hand to eat. Shifts back to left for cutting). I've dedicated thought and energy to teaching myself the proper way to eat everything I come into contact with, whether that be sushi (you may pick up nigiri with fingers. Maki is for chopsticks) or pizza (deep dish needs a fork and knife) or Chinese food (obtain a bowl, fill with rice, place items on top of rice, shovel food into mouth with chopsticks) or pasta (you may use the 'pasta spoon' but an acceptable alternative is if pasta is served in a shallow bowl as it should be, you may use the side of the bowl).

So, when I left St. B's, I was horrified to discover that the majority of the world does not, and has never, abided by such rules of conduct. The majority of the world has never called their elders sir or ma'am. The majority of the world is completely clueless when I stand up for a lady. The majority of the world has never thanked another human being for holding a door open for them. The majority of the world has never had their handshake scrutinized.

So, I had to unteach myself certain comfortable habits. I stopped calling people sir or ma'am. I stopped standing up in the presence of a lady. I stopped doing a lot of things that I had always thought were simply how things were done. Apparently only on my weirdo world. Apparently I was the only one taught to help a lady to a seat. Apparently I was the only one who was taught how to properly deliver a handshake. Apparently I was the only one who'd ever been scolded for licking my knife.

So, in my 10 years in the Midwest now (the anniversary of which was this summer), I've managed to dumb my manners down to an acceptable level. I still catch myself sometimes though. I still refer to people by sir or ma'am if I'm caught off guard. I was even accused of being military because of my propensity to do this by accident. I still sometimes find myself standing in the presence of women (you're supposed to stand whenever a lady rises or enters a room, and you're supposed to help her in and out of her seat). But perhaps the thing that I can't give up on is observation. I find myself drawn to watching my friends and family eat and drink.

If you've ever consumed anything in my presence, then you have been so judged. I can't help it. And I've never even thought about it until a friend of mine licked his knife in front of me, in public, before God himself. But I can't help it. It's like, whether you think about it or not, you judge every man you know by the quality of their handshake. You do. And you know you do because you'll find that guy every now and then that will hand you a completely limp hand, and try to pass that off as a handshake (I've stopped shaking ladies' hands. I do this thing... I 'hold' their hand, if that makes any sense).

Similarly, I've been unable to keep myself from eyeing my friends' dining habits. I know that in reality, manners are not indicative of anything. As much as I try to tell myself that table manners speak nothing about a person's true nature, I can't help but think, "But he's licking his knife!" or perhaps even worse, "Did he just cut up his steak into little pieces???"

Much like last month's splitting the bill entry, I find myself oddly attracted to people who've dedicated as much thought to this matter. If I ever found a woman who on a date lets me hold all the doors for her, lets me help her in and out of her coat, lets me help her in and out of her seat, and while eating (and displaying exquisite table manners), she brushes her hair back, leans close to me, and whispers with her hand over her mouth, "Did you see that? That guy just licked his knife!", if I ever met that girl, I'd hope she wouldn't think it tacky if I dropped to a knee right then and there and proposed.