DEAR MISS MANNERS: I'm a 30-year-old female, and normally only date one person at a time. However, since I want to get married and have children before I'm too old, I felt that I should.

I've been seeing Steve for the past year, but I keep breaking up with him because, although he is a wonderful guy, I'm not falling in love and he is. Still, Steve manages to talk me back into spending time with him, which leads back to dating.

I also have recently been on a few dates with another gentleman I will call Ray. I told Steve about this, but I haven't told Ray about the situation with Steve.

When is the appropriate time to tell Ray he's not the only person I'm dating? I'm under the impression that he thinks I'm only seeing him. Also, he seems to really like me, and I'm feeling a little pressure because he wants to spend more time with me than I'm ready for, since I don't want to jump into another exclusive relationship.

GENTLE READER: As you are not eager to spend more time with either of these gentlemen, Miss Manners assumes you are not involving them in any activity likely to lead immediately to your stated goal.

Was that a "No, of course not"? (Or did Miss Manners state this too euphemistically for you to see what on Earth she means?) In that case, no gentleman should assume that he has an exclusive arrangement with you unless you have explicitly agreed to one.

Kindness is another matter. As a hedge against dashing his ill-founded hopes, you should let drop that you have many friends, of whom he is one of the most valued.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What is a polite yet honest way to decline an invitation disguised as a party?

Generally, this party is held by a hostess who is displaying and selling products such as plastic-ware, kitchen gadgets, home decorating supplies or similar items. Not only do I find these parties boring, but equate them to a live "infomercial" that I can't turn off. I have many other ways I would prefer to spend my free time than to waste an evening away listening to a sales pitch.

I also consider it rude for a friend or acquaintance to entertain in exchange for the purchase of something, which I feel obligated to buy. It's difficult to continually make excuses for not attending and I am often invited again at a later date from the same person or an acquaintance of theirs. Although it is rude on my part to not respond to the hostess's R.S.V.P., I have resorted to that method.

GENTLE READER: Fortunately, you can be polite in this situation without being honest. Or -- before Miss Manners is accused of missing all her morals -- dishonest.

An invitation to purchase does not require an answer, or we would all be spending our lives responding to advertisements. However, the people you know may believe that they have fooled you into thinking they want your company rather than your money, and so it is politer to respond, anyway.

Nevertheless, no excuse is needed in declining an invitation, even a well-meant one. All politeness requires is responding that you cannot attend and -- admittedly stretching the truth -- to express regret.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am an attorney. From time to time, I have lunch with my colleagues, both male and female, either for business, or pleasure, or both.

When I need to excuse myself to the ladies' room, I am never sure whether to take my purse and/or coat with me or leave it at the table, especially if it is at the end of the meal. I do not want my colleagues to feel obligated to watch my personal items, but I also don't want my colleagues to feel as though I don't trust them enough to leave these things behind.

When I'm with my friends, I just leave the items at the table, but I don't know if the business setting or the gender of my colleagues alters the protocol. What is the proper thing to do?

GENTLE READER: You may be worried about your possessions, but Miss Manners is worried about your colleagues. Why do you suspect them, unlike your friends? And what, exactly, do you suspect they'll do? Rifle your purse? Sit idly by while a stranger dons your coat and marches out? Or perhaps that they'll commit the etiquette crime of leaving without warning while you are in the ladies' room?

If so, you can take your things with you without fear of giving offense. The presumption will be that you took your purse because it contains lipstick that you will reapply in the ladies' room, and your coat because you plan to put it on there. Or -- if they are as suspicious of you as you are of them -- because you plan to slip out the back door and stick them with the bill.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: We live in one state, my son is marrying in a small wedding in a second state, and they will live across the country in a third state, where he is employed by a branch of our federal justice department.

The agents in this branch take great pains to protect information about their home addresses and telephone numbers, and all mail for them is sent to an agency box number. Packages that cannot be mailed to a box are shipped to the office address.

We are helping them by arranging for engraved announcements to be mailed on the day of the wedding, in the proper traditional form with the bride's parents announcing the wedding. How could we do "at home" cards? His and our friends, in town and out, do not know where they live.

GENTLE READER: And they don't want anyone to find out. This suggests that they should not be sending out "at home" cards, as the purpose of "at home" cards is to let interested people know where a newly married couple will be living. There is no formal way of saying, "We've moved, but we're not going to tell you where."

Miss Manners supposes that you merely want to assist polite people who will want to send congratulations (or even presents, although they should not be expected from announcements). She suggests putting whatever mailing address the couple uses as a return address on the envelope.

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Just when everything looked black, the emergency etiquette system kicked in. Miss Manners never ceases to be amazed at its power.

Campfire stories of the massive electric failure last month sparkled with illuminating examples. Consideration and camaraderie were being shown by people who would certainly not be chummy if they had anything better to do.

Those whose normal means of perambulation is to elbow one another off the sidewalk were stopping to lend a hand instead. Drivers who might have been running down pedestrians were offering them lifts. Neighbors whose only previous form of communication had been the complaint sat around chatting in the dark.

Some of the businesspeople who could have profited from the situation chose not to. There were more than a few vendors who lowered prices they might have raised and opportunists who decided not to go looting.

Miss Manners has noticed such outbursts of courtesy under stress occurring under many tragic circumstances. For the New Yorkers who were hit by the power outage, it was a small reprise of the spirit shown following the Sept. 11, 2001, attack; elsewhere, many found it reminiscent of the atmosphere during floods, tornadoes or other natural disasters.

As Miss Manners understands it, the formula is: The worse conditions get, the better people behave. Good times, bad behavior; bad times, good behavior.

This ensures that we always have troubles, if not from without, then from within.

After the 2001 tragedy, people were saying that life had changed forever, and now they were going to count their blessings and concentrate on what was important and never again grumble and fret over petty daily grievances.

"This is a wakeup call," is what people always declare each time things go wrong. That is when they promise to beef up security, lay in supplies, crack down on crime, fix the equipment or whatever else might offer retroactive reassurance.

Then comes the all-clear sign, signaling that the immediate threat is past and everyone can go back to being careless and snippy. It's impressive how resilient we are when it comes to reconstructing our shattered sense that life is irritatingly bad but not dangerous.

Miss Manners finds this understandable. How do you ordinarily react to a wakeup call, even one that you set yourself the night before? Don't you roll over and try to get back to sleep, trusting that the annoyance will go away if you ignore it?

However, the etiquette alert is different. The standard of behavior we exhibit during emergencies is not scary; on the contrary. It is a demonstration of how pleasant life can be when people treat one another courteously.

Furthermore, it is easily attainable. We may not be able to prevent natural disasters or eradicate crime, but we can create an amiable living environment by behaving ourselves. One might be forgiven for thinking "No, we can't" after observing people in their undisturbed habitat, but the examples when things go wrong prove otherwise. They also give the lie to the usual modern excuse of rudeness being the inevitable result of stress.

We needn't maintain the full heroic stance. Just the resolve to refrain from being annoying and aggressive would help. No need to go around handing strangers free bottles of water.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Like many office buildings, the one in which I work uses an access-card entry system. I keep my card in my wallet. Often, instead of taking out the wallet to run it by the sensor, I merely swivel my hip slightly to allow the card to be "read."

Is this hop move considered rude if (1) no one is in the vicinity? (2) I believe no one is seeing this? and (3) I'm only with close colleagues?

GENTLE READER: Rude? Actually, it sounds exciting. Miss Manners lives in a city with hardly a building standing that doesn't require an access pass or at least a show of identification, and none of them features a folk dance. Would you care to come to Washington, D.C., and teach it to us?

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