DEAR MISS MANNERS: I am in my early 20s, I’m short, and could stand to lose 20 pounds. I have been working as a burger flipper. I have been on five dates since I was 18. I am failing out of community collage, the only place I can afford to go.

Now, enter Grace, my friend since childhood: a devoted, sweet, well-meaning, skilled person who is thin, blond and blue-eyed, and who has had too many dates to count. Coming from a wealthy family, not working, earning top grades at an Ivy League college while living on a big family estate, she has everything I want.

We became friends when my mother was babysitting for her parents’ date night, and she brought me along. Grace is so kind, she befriended me fast.

Her mom and dad are together, but mine are divorced and my mother has depression. Grace has had lots of job offers and will take one, but she does not need to work for her entire life. Her dad started her on stocks when she was young, and she is set for life.

She never yells or anything; she is witty, happy, smart and never a downer. But Grace makes me sad, bordering on angry, whenever I see her. I dress in Goodwill tees; she dresses in a silk blouse in exactly her style. And she is nice to everyone.

See the difference? I wonder: Why can’t I have that, be like that, look like that? I want to keep my friendship with her together, since she is so kind and smart, but every time I see her, it gets worse.

GENTLE READER: Here is a universal truth:

There will always be someone prettier, smarter, richer, funnier, kinder and more tech-savvy than you (Miss Manners added the last one since that is where her own envy lies at the moment).

That your friend’s and your situations are so disparate and extreme is hard, but it is not insurmountable. Your friend has done nothing blameworthy -- on the contrary, she has been devoted to you -- and if you let your anger at the unfairness and divergence in the world conquer you, you will lose that relationship, too.

At the risk of turning this into a teenaged makeover montage, Miss Manners suggests that you ask for your friend’s help. Focus on something attainable. Force yourself to be nice, even when you do not feel like it. Ask her advice when shopping at Goodwill to find things that become you.

Find out what fears or insecurities lie behind her seemingly perfect life (everybody has something). You have a real chance here to keep from becoming bitter -- no matter how justified your reasons may be -- and a true friend to help you do it. Miss Manners suggests that you count that amongst your blessings.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What is the most appropriate way to grovel? I once stood up a former co-worker for lunch by complete accident -- the first, and hopefully only, time I have ever done so. I called and left a mortified message, and sent a similarly remorseful email. I promised if he would give me another chance, lunch would be my treat, but frankly, this seems insufficient. Should I send him an “apology bouquet”? A bottle of wine? I just feel terrible!

GENTLE READER: Groveling in such a case is entirely appropriate, but you have mastered that. The question is, when to stop groveling?

Miss Manners feels that three apologies are sufficient for your infraction. The first should be verbal -- preferably in-person -- for which we will count your call and voicemail. The second is a handwritten letter, for which your email can be a partial substitute. Rather than seek out an opportunity to make the third apology, await actual contact. After that, you will have done your duty, and can revert to a neutral (not aggrieved) tone in further dealings.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: We recently attended the wedding of the daughter of a friend of ours. They had an open bar while the wedding party took pictures after the ceremony, and a buffet dinner following. We were seated in a crowded balcony area, and could not see the majority of the people who were seated on the main floor.

My husband and I knew very few people other than the parents of the bride and the bride herself. We spoke a couple of times to them. After three hours, we discreetly left.

Later, the mother of the bride texted me to say she missed saying goodbye to me. She mentioned that she had not seen me on the dance floor. I responded that I did not have my dancing shoes on, but I think she knew we left shortly after dinner.

As they spent a lot of money on the reception, including a party afterwards, should we have declined the invitation, knowing that we are wallflowers and would not stay all night? Or was attending the wedding and the dinner for three hours enough?

GENTLE READER: Three hours is a decent showing, for which you cannot be justly criticized. But you apparently neglected to say goodbye to your hosts when you left. This was a breach of etiquette that carried its own punishment: It left you open to your hostess’s subsequent (and tactless) criticism.

Had you sought out your hostess and thanked her before leaving, Miss Manner assures you it would have been harder for her to object to your departure. And even if she had, it would have been easy to deflect: “Oh, thank you so much. We loved the ceremony. The dinner was really wonderful. We’re so happy for your daughter and Everett. But it’s our bedtime now.”

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My cellular phone sometimes drops calls, and I am suddenly disconnected from the person I was speaking to. If this occurs in the middle of a conversation, I normally call the person back, explain what happened with an apology, and resume the conversation.

I am wondering what to do if the call is disconnected right at the end of a conversation, when goodbyes are either about to be said or are in the process. It seems a little silly to call back to say, “Sorry, the phone got disconnected. So anyway, goodbye!”

I don’t want to risk the other person thinking I rudely hung up, though, by not explaining what happened.

GENTLE READER: Cellular telephones are one of many modern devices constructed to make us feel silly, so do not let that stop you from calling back to conclude the conversation.

Miss Manners realizes that this will be condemned by those who most value efficiency, although she suspects that even they do not appreciate being hung up on. If you are already busy with the next call, a text will suffice: “I think my phone decided we were done before we were. It was lovely to speak with you. Talk to you soon.”

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I’m married, childless and unemployed, and sometimes face the question: “What do you DO all day?”

I can usually tell when it’s just a conversation starter with new acquaintances, and find those conversations pleasant enough. However, sometimes the question comes from friends and relatives, with an edge to the tone, and the implication that I must have very little to do.

The truth is, running a house, organizing a social life and being supportive of my husband’s career take time and work. However, if I say I’m busy, people usually reply that no one is busy who doesn’t have kids.

Although I’m outwardly polite, inwardly I find these conversations unpleasant. Could you tell me how I might handle these inquiries? I’m searching for a response that is polite, rather than sarcastic, but that doesn’t go along with the idea that I must generally account for my time to others.

GENTLE READER: You are not searching for a response that is polite, Miss Manners suggests, but one that is not impolite. Your friends and relatives will understand the distinction when you answer their intrusive questions and rude remarks with a cheerful, “Well, I don’t pry into others’ schedules, so that saves time,” before you change the subject.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When someone doesn’t respond to class reunion queries (they may not have been popular), how do you let them know that you would still like to be in touch? And that high school attitudes are something everyone goes through, and have more than likely changed?

GENTLE READER: There is a certain logic in reopening an old wound (by reminding your classmate how unpopular he was) to ensure he will be in need of the consolation you wish to offer. But Miss Manners counsels against it. If you would really like to reconnect, issue an invitation. And since it has been a long time, it is also best to defer such questions as, “Are you as roly-poly as ever?”

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)