I like manners. This apparently makes me sound approximately 97 years old. So be it. I do not mean elaborate etiquette involving twelve forks and anxiety about which direction the asparagus should face. I mean the little gestures that tell another person: I noticed you. There is something deeply attractive about a man who moves through the world with consideration. He thanks the waiter. He is kind to the driver. He holds the door when it makes sense and doesn’t perform an Olympic sprint through a lobby because a woman is twenty feet behind him. He introduces people. He shows up when he said he would. He does not spend dinner conducting a parallel relationship with his telephone. Nothing revolutionary. And yet good manners have become sufficiently uncommon that they now feel almost flirtatious. A man stands when I arrive at a table? Well, hello. I notice. Of course I notice. Women notice far more than men sometimes realize. We notice the way you treat people you don’t need anything from. Possibly more than the way you treat us.
Anyone can be charming to a woman he wants. The real information comes when something goes wrong. The reservation is missing. The room isn’t ready. The waiter brings the wrong thing. The car is late. Now I am watching. Not because I expect a man never to be annoyed. I become annoyed. I contain multitudes. But how someone handles inconvenience tells you a great deal. A secure man rarely needs to humiliate someone to establish his importance. He can solve a problem without turning it into theater. That is attractive. Very attractive. Power with restraint is almost always sexier than power loudly advertised. This may be especially true of successful men. If you have actual status, you don’t need to make a nineteen-year-old hostess acknowledge it. She is simply trying to locate your reservation. Let the poor girl live.
Good manners are confidence in miniature. A man who knows how to enter a room, greet people, make someone comfortable, ask a question, listen to the answer and include the quiet person in conversation possesses a form of social intelligence that money cannot buy. Although money can apparently purchase many books explaining which fork to use. I would still choose kindness. And no, manners do not require stiffness. Some of the most charming men I know are irreverent. They swear. They tell inappropriate jokes. They can be mischievous. Charm needs a little danger or it becomes customer service. What matters is knowing where the line is. A gentleman can be naughty. He simply understands consent, context and timing. That combination is considerably sexier than vulgarity. Restraint creates tension. This applies to flirting too. A compliment delivered lightly can stay with a woman all evening. “You look beautiful.” Simple. No anatomical inventory necessary. If you really know what you’re doing, compliment something specific. A dress. Her laugh. Something she said. The way she thinks. Better yet, remember something from the last conversation. Attention is the advanced course. The same is true physically. A hand offered while stepping out of a car. A coat placed around your shoulders. A hand at the small of your back moving through a crowded room. Tiny gestures. None remotely explicit. All potentially electric when you like the person touching you.
This is where manners and seduction secretly overlap. Both are about awareness. Where is the other person? Are they comfortable? What are they responding to? Are you paying attention? A good lover and a good host probably share more skills than etiquette books mention. There is also something romantic about a man taking care of logistics. Not controlling everything. Not issuing instructions. Just handling something competently. “I made us a reservation.” “I sent the car.” “I checked—the museum is open late tonight.” Beautiful sentence. Competence is underrated foreplay. Especially once adulthood involves enough administrative work already. There is nothing seductive about organizing every detail while a grown man texts, “Whatever you want.” Having preferences is allowed. Make a plan. We can change it. That’s the civilized part. And women have manners too, obviously. This cannot become an essay demanding men perform eighteenth-century courtship while I arrive forty minutes late and abuse the sommelier. Reciprocity matters. If a man plans something thoughtful, appreciate it. Say thank you. Notice his effort. Be pleasant to the people helping you. Don’t spend the evening testing him. Don’t manufacture drama because stability feels insufficiently exciting. Charm is collaborative.
I have never understood the dating philosophy that says people should deliberately make themselves difficult to increase desire. Perhaps that works on someone. I would rather be enjoyable. Not easy in every sense. Let’s not get carried away. But enjoyable to know. There is a wonderful sophistication in making other people comfortable without making yourself small. That’s what good manners really are. Not submission. Not class performance. Social generosity. You make room. You listen. You say please. You say thank you. You send the message the next day. You don’t disappear because apparently adulthood has become frightening. If you don’t want to see someone again, you can even say so kindly. Imagine. Civilization may survive. And if you do want to see her again? Tell her. This might be my favorite old-fashioned custom of all. No elaborate strategy. No pretending indifference because somebody online said desire creates leverage. “I had a wonderful time. I’d like to see you again.” That is an excellent text. Confident. Clear. Warm. Sexy, even. Especially when I wanted the same thing. So yes, I still like manners. Hold the door occasionally. Stand up. Make the reservation. Treat people well. Wear something nice. Put the phone away. Walk me to the car. Maybe kiss me goodnight. Very politely, of course. After that? Well. Good manners also include knowing when not to overstay your welcome. Unless you’re invited.