DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am in a book club and a happy marriage. Book clubbers often spend a good part of the evening complaining about the men in their lives and the men in the books we've read. They often generalize about how horribly men behave toward them now, and how badly men have treated women in the historical past.

I am uncomfortable with these discussions. Does this mean my consciousness needs to be raised about my own situation, or that I should speak up about their sexism? Or, as common sense dictates, does it mean that I should just quit this club?

GENTLE READER: So, you are happy with your marriage and unhappy with your book club. And your problem is -- which one should you change?

Miss Manners is occasionally asked whether she has ever come across a problem that stumped her. Hitherto, she has not responded, because she wants to be truthful but does not want to appear immodest.

Would you be kind enough to consent to her citing yours?

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I've just found out I am pregnant. Of course, I'm keeping my job, and I'm insulted by people who would presume to ask the question. Men don't get asked that question. In fact, my husband's salary is roughly half of mine, so if anyone were going to stay home, it would be him, not me. How can I answer this very intrusive question?

I'd like people not to make the assumption that I would be the one staying home. Even people who know me and our financial situation quite well (like my sister) have asked this question. What can I say?

GENTLE READER: You can say, "Yes, I'm taking a short maternity leave, and then I'll be back at work."

Miss Manners considers herself alert to nosy questions and to patronizing questions, but neither of these sounds an alarm. What would be both nosy and patronizing would be if people assumed, as you seem to, that spouses rate each other by earning power, and the loser has to stay home with the child.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: While standing in a line for a food special in the cafeteria at lunch (my food was cooking at this point, and I was about a minute from receiving it), I was approached by a young woman in her early 30s who asked what the special was. When I told her, she wrinkled up her nose and said very loudly, "EW!"

I was taught that it is extremely impolite to make unpleasant comments about someone else's food -- even in a purchasing situation. Has the code of manners changed with regard to this issue?

I suspect I'm being overly sensitive, but this kind of behavior drives me wild, and even more so when the perpetrator is an adult. My response was to turn my back on her, but I found the whole thing quite disconcerting. Is there some verbal response that would have been appropriate, or would I simply have been adding to her rudeness?

GENTLE READER: For goodness' sake, of course the code of manners hasn't changed to allow people to spit in other people's food, figuratively or otherwise. But neither has it changed to allow you to snarl back.

What it does allow you to do is exactly what you did do: to turn your back wordlessly on someone who has demonstrated that she does not deserve your attention. Miss Manners assures you that this is a more effective, as well as a more dignified way of registering your displeasure.

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The pearl-encrusted lady, that legendary personification of etiquette, sails along with her nose in the air as she frostily delivers the ultimate conversation-killer:

"I do not believe (pause) that we have been (pause) properly introduced."

Great sport is to be had from contrasting her behavior with that of the unpretentious human being she snubs, who -- far from hoping to enjoy her tedious society -- was only trying to be helpful. Off she goes on her snooty way, not bothering to catch the murmured remark, "Pardon me, madam, but you are about to step into an open manhole."

Miss Manners has always been puzzled by this supposedly hilarious figure who exists only in order to demonstrate that the purpose of good manners is to inflict humiliation on honest folk. The corollary must be that true kindness and consideration can only be found among the rude.

But others must be even more puzzled by this particular bromide. What, they must wonder, is a "proper introduction," anyway?

"Hi, I'm Zack"?

"I'm Brianna, and I'll be your waitperson"?

All the same, the need for this rule still exists, and the good people who reversed it, advocating social receptiveness with no formalities, have created a lot of confusion and trouble. Hugging strangers did not spread the happiness that was promised, and simple friendliness to the unknown has been known to result in tragedy.

When lurid crimes unfortunately illustrated the dangers of such openness, parents again began teaching their children never to talk to strangers, while some adults even questioned the wisdom of allowing familiarities by those unfamiliar to them. This strikes Miss Manners as only sensible, even if it was done in ignorance of the rule's previous existence and accompanied by wailing that this didn't used to be necessary because the world used to be so safe, back before the invention of crime.

However, there was a weird element this time around: People who take these simple precautions feel that they are being rude. They know they have to protect themselves, but they feel bad administering the rebuffing involved.

After the last wave of kidnappings, there were advisories telling parents to teach their children "that it was all right to be impolite" when approached by strangers. Young ladies are always asking Miss Manners how to avoid being rude when declining amorous overtures on the street.

She finds this somewhat touching. America has, after all, a fine tradition of easy friendship and kindness to strangers. However, this was always either within a stable social environment, such as when newcomers are welcomed to a neighborhood, a congregation, an organization or a school; or it was transitory, as when people chatted when stranded together or offered aid to those who needed it.

For friendship, and even more for romance, there had to be some plausible connection to someone acquainted with the person's character. Picking up strangers wasn't safe in olden times, and it is not safe now. Etiquette did not invent the proper introduction rule to discourage warmth but to protect safety. Snubbing aggressive strangers is not rude, but prudent.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have come across an interesting problem regarding how to properly fold business letters.

Should they be folded so that the name of the addressee shows immediately upon opening the letter, or folded so that the name is on the inside, and only the blank reverse-side shows upon opening it? This question has generated much discussion in my office.

GENTLE READER: Folded? Are you talking about paper? And when you refer to putting it inside, do you mean that your plan is to put this piece of paper into a paper envelope?

Miss Manners considers this a wonderful idea, but she is not surprised that your colleagues are confused. It is getting to be a lost art.

All right, that's enough nostalgic wandering. A business letter is folded in thirds, the bottom third toward the middle, and the top third down over it. Thus the blank, reverse side of the top part of the letter is what is seen when the envelope is opened from the back, but the letter itself then can be unfolded right side up.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: Please tell me how to respond to people at work who ask me how my weekend was and then walk away. I find this worse than saying nothing.

GENTLE READER: We seem to have a geographical problem here.

Or are you asking what to shout at their backs as they retreat?

Even then, Miss Manners would have trouble understanding the problem. A colleague's "How was your weekend?" is a mere pleasantry, not an invitation to explain that you did the crossword puzzle in ink, washed the dog, looked up an old flame on the Internet, rented some movies and ate too much. So, unless you fell off your balcony, in which case you probably would not be at work on Monday, the answer is, "Great; yours?" This should not take long enough to allow your retreating questioner to get far.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am lucky enough to be blessed with many friends and acquaintances, who often invite myself or my partner and I to social events and outings. The problem is that the amount of invitations often overlap and cascade in such a fashion that I am forced to make decisions from a hat-full of invitations about whom to spend time with for almost every night and weekend-day.

For example, I was recently faced with a conundrum: a family friend and his fiancee were celebrating their engagement at a drinking establishment on a Thursday night. I was made aware of this at short notice, at which time I already had plans to meet with a potential business partner for drinks, to discuss opportunities.

My consternation arose from the fact that I had already rescheduled the business meeting once that week -- a second postponement would surely be deemed a waste of my colleague's time. However, my engaged friends had organized for many of their friends to meet with them and wish them well. Of course, a postponement for them would have been out of the question. What would you suggest in this scenario?

Fortunately for me, providence intervened at the last minute -- the engagement drinks were shifted to earlier in the evening, so I was able to attend that at the beginning and end, with the business drinks as a hiatus in between.

I seem to recall something from my childhood about the first invitation on the timeline taking precedence. Could you suggest what the most polite course of action should be for selecting one invitation and declining others?

Ought I to respect the "first in, best dressed" rule? Or am I at liberty to choose an event based on a personal preference? Is there a rule of thumb in this regard? How many declined invitations or reschedulings will be considered rude by one individual or couple, generally speaking? Also, in this electronic age, how rapidly must one respond to an invitation, especially by e-mail?

GENTLE READER: As you already know the chief answer -- reply to invitations as you receive them, decline what does not interest you, but don't reschedule except for illness or death in the family -- Miss Manners can only urge you to follow it and congratulate you on being so popular. Last-minute drinks in a bar hardly constitutes a major occasion justifying canceling previous plans.

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