DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband of 32 years is a true gentleman whose speech is as gentle as his mannerisms. He is helpful and pays full attention to everyone he encounters. He treats men at his workplace with understanding and respect, and he treats the women as gently as one would respond to a delicate child.

Is it proper for the women to hug him, telephone him, write him, invite him to their rooms and request constant assistance from him?

At first, these women disturbed me by these actions. I confronted him, but he didn't understand my reason for being upset. I've never called a married man for help, nor called him at his office just to chat. I'm not sure they would treat him that chummily in front of their husbands.

I'd like to slap them or run over them with my car, but I don't feel that would be proper. At the moment, I treat them civilly. I have to consider my husband's place at work. Do you have any advice for me?

GENTLE READER: Why yes, Miss Manners has three pieces of advice.

1. Do not -- repeat, not -- go around slapping your husband's business associates. You will only demonstrate that such a nice gentleman is in desperate need of being rescued from a wife who is, to say the least, no lady.

2. Do not run them over with your car. They will feel obliged to comfort your husband in his loneliness while you serve your sentence.

3. Do not be disturbed by the actions of these ladies. They may be merely appreciatively astonished at his gentle manners, and responding with the only well-intentioned manners they know, the manners of chumminess.

You know, and Miss Manners knows, that these are not proper business manners, which should distinguish between the personal and the professional relationship. Your husband knows, too, which is why he does not seem to have succumbed to using them himself.

But he must also know that since workplace manners were reduced to the point where the only choices are Mean and Nice, such chumminess can exist without the least element of romantic intention. Presuming he is the true gentleman you say he is, you should not insult him by questioning his judgment.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband and I are frequently asked out by people with whom we'd rather not socialize, for example, the parents of our children's friends. They may say, "We should get together; how about drinks?" or "Come on over and we can chat while the kids play."

We have made excuses or have begrudgingly gone, but the truth is we would rather stay home or socialize with old friends. What I really want to say is, "We won't ever be able to come over, because we just don't want to." Do you have a tactful way of telling people that you'd rather not spend your time with them?

GENTLE READER: Generalized busyness, over-used as it is, is the way to make a blanket refusal: "Thank you, but we're so ridiculously behind just now, we just can't take the time. You're so nice to ask us."

Miss Manners urges you, nevertheless, to consider occasionally finding small social moments with your children's friends' parents -- going by early to pick up your children, for example, or lingering with them at an event. This softens your refusal. More importantly to you, perhaps, it establishes some rapport. When the children are older and out together later than they were supposed to be, you may find you have more in common with these people than you thought.

:

It's been quiet in the old neighborhood since the rock band next door moved away. Miss Manners, who always hoped they would go on to fame and fortune sooner rather than later, wished them well and was sorry to hear that such had not come to pass.

She would have felt dreadful had she in any way contributed to their musical demise. But it appeared that the sole responsibility for that went to rock fans.

The contrary is true, according to the band member who went on to what only journalists such as he and she think of as glory, namely a career as a critic. He credits her with "saying the nicest thing anyone has ever uttered about the group: 'Turn it down, please.'"

There were other things she might have said. Miss Manners' household and visitors, whose hearing has been ruined by listening to opera to the point where they can't appreciate amplification, were full of suggestions:

"Call the police."

"Burn the house down."

"Wagner. At full pitch. Until they scream for mercy."

Aside from that last cruel threat, this is the sort of solution Miss Manners hears all the time from Gentle Readers who are bothered by neighborhood noise, dogs, leaves, children and competition for parking space. They have qualms about their fantasies of retaliation, or they wouldn't write to her for alternatives, but they confess that those would give them the satisfaction they crave.

She understands. Polite is not the opposite of human. Just because Miss Manners behaves perfectly, it doesn't mean that she is untroubled by temptation.

The greatest temptation arrived by chance, when police arrived of their own accord as Miss Manners was entertaining guests at dinner, and reported that the house next door had been robbed in the tenants' absence. The locks had been broken, and instructions were left for the returning tenants not to investigate, but to call the police from Miss Manners' house.

"Now's our chance," the guests said, more or less in unison, after the police had departed the neighborhood. "Let's all go over, quick, and throw out all the instruments. They'll think it was the robbers."

To the disappointment of all, Miss Manners refused to grab her shawl and lead them grandly into larceny. Etiquette has ways of settling things that are less fun but more effective. Its policy, like that of any sensible government, is to try diplomacy before declaring war.

And, indeed, that was what worked. Rather than mount a hostile attack, she left a note with that simple request and the hope that it would not be too much of an inconvenience.

They turned out to be people of good will, as Miss Manners suspects most neighbors are. It is being subjected to major reprisals for annoyances they may not be aware of causing that causes them to behave as badly -- well, as badly as the counter-attackers did on purpose.

In this case, accommodations were reached, and everyone lived in peace; when they left, Miss Manners was sorry to see them go.

The house is now occupied by people with similar musical tastes, but whose neighborliness taught even Miss Manners a lesson. Before giving the occasional party, they always leave her a note with their telephone number and instructions to please call if the noise disturbs her.

Miss Manners does not call. She prefers to bask in the idea that such nice people are enjoying themselves. And she is busy in her own house, insisting that the Valkyrie turn it down, please.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: While we were enjoying the hot tub with my friends, the host introduced us to new neighbors who joined us. They then proceeded to complain about life in general, especially how people with physical disabilities shouldn't be allowed in their expensive health club because they are a turnoff.

The silence was deadly when I asked to be lifted from the hot tub because of both legs being paralyzed. My wife left in tears.

Should the host have told her neighbors of my condition, or should I have interrupted her by saying I am handicapped?

GENTLE READER: What should have happened here is that the neighbors, and not your wife, should have gone home in tears.

Otherwise, Miss Manners cannot see how this unfortunate event could have been prevented. To "warn" someone of your disability would be insulting to any decent person, which presumably your host had no inkling that his neighbor is not. And you made the point more effectively than by simply saying so.

Miss Manners is deeply sorry that you were embarrassed, but hopeful that everyone else present learned from the incident.

:

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Many years ago, I made a professional mistake, which was very public, cost me a career, and has cast a long shadow since. My error arose from honest miscalculation without bad intent. However, others in the organization were glad to use me as a shield to cover up their bad intent and preserve themselves.

I said little at the time, attempting to accept my responsibility for this situation (and because of overblown feelings of guilt). I might add that I received support from kind, thinking people who understood the situation because they were in a position to know the facts.

I am passed by some people without even the trappings of civility, such as "hello" or "how are you?" After 20 years, may I abandon my brief factual answer to the transparent question, "What are you doing now?" Long ago, I concluded this was simply grapevine fare; now I feel that my prescription on forbearance has run out, and I am inclined to say, gently, "Thank you for your interest" and remove myself.

I would like to find some elegant way to ask these people to give it a rest.

GENTLE READER: You may find this a relief, or it may gall you even more, but Miss Manners feels obliged to tell you that after 20 years, most people don't remember exactly why they are cutting you.

She can assure you that the only people to whom the case is still vivid are the ones who were guilty themselves. Others, who went along with the snub originally because the consensus was against you, are now just doing it out of habit.

Do you want to stir them up so that they feel they have to justify themselves? That is what any sort of a reprimand, no matter how elegant, would do. Predisposed to think you bad in some vague way, they would now remember you as the person who embarrassed them.

If you want the ban to end, you must act as if it already had. Miss Manners realizes it will be difficult to make friendly overtures to people who have been snubbing you, but she begs you to try. If you steel yourself to say a friendly hello, and to answer questions about what you are doing as if they were no more than idle conversation -- which, indeed, they may well be -- you will signal to people that the social punishment for whatever it is that happened is over.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A great-uncle, retired and known to be monetarily generous, was invited to his great-niece's bridal shower. She came from out of state for the shower, inviting female guests whom she barely knew or not at all.

The gent attended and, shortly thereafter, the wedding was canceled. To date, about five months later, no presents have been returned.

The "couple" took a trip to Vegas after canceling the wedding. What does Miss Manners think of this disgusting set of affairs?

GENTLE READER: That the gent is never going to get his investment back.

However, Miss Manners prefers to think happy thoughts. She is therefore assuming that the trip was an attempt at reconciliation, and that the presents are being kept pending a decision to marry or to part.

: