Help! I’m Beginning to Dread Flying Because of One Habit Among My Fellow Passengers.
It’s Advice Week! In On Second Thought, we’ll revisit questions from the archives and dig into how much has changed since Slate began giving advice in 1997—and how much hasn’t. Read all stories here.
For today’s edition, we dug through Slate’s archives and unearthed questions sent to Prudie from the 2000s. We’ve asked today’s columnists to weigh in with modern-day sensibilities.
Dear Prudence,
I am a very busy, private person with awkward social skills. I so seldom get time alone that I look forward to flying on business trips … time to think, read, draw, or stare vacantly into the distance. I have enough experience now to know that it never works out that way. I’ve begun to dread airplane flights because the person sitting next to me insists upon chatting. I’ve tried everything from polite disinterest to blunt disinterest to outright bad manners, but people do seem to think that if they persist, they will draw me out. I do not wish to be drawn out and don’t know how to make my point forcefully. I would like a magic phrase that politely lets people know that I respectfully do not wish to converse. Not just that I don’t wish to converse right now, but that I don’t wish to converse. Got one?
—Silent
Original Response:
Dear Si,
Prudie could not agree with you more. In fact, she has collected the following approaches from friends who’ve been pestered on planes … and has used one or two of them herself. Since “what do you do?” is a favorite opener, an arcane or uninteresting occupation can be very effective. If you answer that you’re in pest control, or a particle physicist, your seatmate most probably will be at a loss as to how to follow up. If the Welcome Wagon in the next seat does not take the hint, you can be more direct and explain that you have a serious problem you must mull over and solve by the time you land in XXXXX. Or you can say your poodle just died, and you are in no shape to have a conversation. Prudie actually knows a woman who learned to sign, “I am not a hearing person.” This, of course, necessitates going to find the flight attendant to make your dinner selection—and using the headset is out of the question—but what a small price to pay for silence. In this particular instance, where there’s a will, there is a way.
—Prudie, quietly
From: Dear Prudence (Nov. 15, 2001).
Advice From the Future:
Dear Silent,
Oh no, Previous Prudie. Pest control is way too interesting of a profession. That’s a conversation starter! Everyone is going to have a story about a rat or a question about how to fight a fruit fly infestation. My go-to response when asked what I do for a living is “project manager.” No offense to project managers out there, but it’s dry enough to make anyone turn back to the in-flight magazine. In this day and age, you could approach the seat already wearing Airpods or big, noise-reducing headphones, nodding along to real or imaginary music. Maybe you can turn to your CD or MP3 player? Without that option, I would suggest getting ahead of things like this:
You to your seatmate: “Excuse me I’m going to squeeze in here. Hi, how are you?”
Seatmate: “Doing well, thanks? How about you?”
You [before they ask, “Business or pleasure?”]: “Honestly, just completely exhausted. I’ve had a horrible week and have so much on my mind. If I’m not chatty today, please don’t think I’m rude, I’m just going to be relaxing and try to sit here with my thoughts and my adult coloring book.” (My editor has pointed out that these weren’t a thing until the 2010s, long after you wrote your letter. And it looks like my other idea, Sudoko, didn’t take off until 2004. But you get the idea. Look busy! Spread out a big newspaper or something.)—Jenée
Submit your questions anonymously here. (Questions may be edited for publication.)
Dear Prudence,
One of my co-workers is getting married, and not nearly for the first (or second!) time. This bride had her TWO bridal registries printed right on her invitations. At one registry Web site, no gifts were selected, but she is asking for gift certificates. The other registry is filled with expensive items. She has told everyone she and her beloved want all new things that they hadn’t shared with a previous spouse. Now she is having a bridal luncheon/shower at the office. Each of us is expected to pitch in for food and bring a gift. I am a single parent, and money is tight. I have already gone in with two other single moms to purchase a nice wedding gift. We are being pressured to attend the shower (and not so subtly to purchase another gift). I thought that either a wedding gift or a shower gift was given, but not both. I’ve been told “times have changed,” and a gift is expected for each. I would appreciate your clarification.
—Out-of-date and Out of Funds
Original Response:
Dear Out,
While you may feel out-of-date and out of funds, this “bride” must be out of her mind. She printed her registries on the invitations? It would have been more expeditious to send a collection agency rep to each invitee, don’t you think? Good taste dictates that more than two times out of the gate calls for the simplest of celebrations—and Prudie knows whereof she speaks. To lean on people for gifts (pricey ones, at that) and gift certificates with the explanation that “they want all new things” never touched by previous partners is wacky and nervy. Prudie hopes you will ignore the requests, resist the pressure, and encourage other browbeaten co-workers to do the same. The day of the office luncheon/shower sounds like the perfect day to go out for a salad.
—Prudie, sputteringly
From: Dear Prudence (July 22, 2004).
Advice From the Future:
Dear Out-of-Date,
I guess before the pandemic and the very real threat of democracy ending, people had more energy to get worked up over this kind of thing. It’s now 2024 and I absolutely could not care less whether a person’s second wedding is the “simplest of celebrations.” It’s time to let some wedding rules go. We’re here on this earth for a short time and then we die. There are countless injustices and tragedies in the world. If this couple wants to have a party at the office to celebrate their love, why the hell would you care? Is it polite, according to the official rules of etiquette, to list a registry on your wedding invitation? Probably not. But again: Why get agitated about it? No one is hacking into the letter writer’s bank account and transferring an amount of money to cover a gift certificate and an espresso machine.
An engaged couple writing down a list of things they would like is not doing the equivalent of a collection agency rep banging down doors. These people are making a request, and you are free to decline that request. Zero demands are being made. Zero individual pressure is being applied. There are no threats and no intimidation. Everyone invited is free to show up without a gift (as Slate’s Susan Matthews’ has argued is probably a better idea) or give a gift that they can afford and that they feel good about. Yes, it would be nice to give something at each event but the gift offered at the bridal shower can be a little porcelain tray designed for wedding rings that says Mrs. on one side and Mr. on the other side, purchased for $7.99 from the back section of HomeGoods where they keep all the random odds and ends. It can also be a card.
You’re trying to support your family and make ends meet, and you do not need to stress about this. Whatever you can give is fine. Please, celebrate when and if you feel celebratory. Give what you can afford to give and feel good about giving. But don’t get a reputation as a cheap, busybody by rallying your colleagues to punish this woman for the crime of having questionable etiquette.—Jenée
Dear Prudence,
I recently met a wonderful man via Internet personals. (He responded to my ad.) We are really progressing as a couple, and I am very happy to have him in my life. So, what’s the problem? He doesn’t like people knowing we met on the Internet. It’s not because he met me, he assures me, but because of the “stigma” attached to Internet personals. I don’t have any problem telling people how we met. I believe the Internet is a wonderful way for busy singles such as Mr. Perfect and myself to find romance. His close friends know how we met, but he has told some inquisitive co-workers that we met at a club. I am OK with that, because it’s not really their business. However, I am worried about future explanations.
People love to hear “How we met” stories … so what am I supposed to do? He gets upset when I tell him I’ve told my friends the “us” story even though they think it’s romantic. I think he is making a big deal out of nothing. It’s not like I’m the Julia Robert’s character in Pretty Woman, and he’s in love with a prostitute. What do you say, Prudie?
—Cyberlovingly Yours
Original Response:
Dear Cy,
One thing Prudie has to say is that you and Mr. Perfect should get your stories straight. With both of you telling different versions to different people you will soon sound like pathological liars or a couple who met in a way that does need to be covered up. As for resolving the issue you write about, Prudie thinks if it’s so important to Mr. P. that people not know yours was an Internet personals situation then you should go along with it. (Though the real story, already known to some people, is a complication.) If things progress to the point where you become a permanent couple, perhaps when people ask how you met you might just say, “We were introduced.” Which is kind of true. All you will be leaving out is that you introduced yourselves to each other on the Internet.
—Prudie, compromisingly
From: Dear Prudence (March 24, 2000).
Advice From the Future:
Dear Cyberlovingly Yours,
“We were introduced” is the kind of stilted response that raises more questions than it answers. There’s no way the letter writer is going to get away with that without the person who asked sniffing out the existence of a secret and assuming something much more scandalous than Eharmony.com.
I would say to the letter writer: If you like this guy enough that you want to move forward with him, you’ll have to get comfortable with a little bit of a lie. I suggest, “We were set up on a blind date.” That’s true to the spirit of what happened—and in fact, the internet did kind of set you up before you met in person.
So there you have my way to resolve this particular debate. But its existence suggests a hint of incompatibility between you and Wonderful Internet Man. I’m not saying you should break up over it right now. But just pay attention to whether there are additional issues down the line that could signal a mismatch when it comes to the way you think about shame, secrecy, and the opinions of others. If it becomes a pattern that he’s always fretting about stigma while you’re always going, “Who cares, I don’t have a problem with it” and he keeps getting upset with you as a result, take note. Keeping up appearances is a lot of work, and it could be exhausting for you.
If you do stay together, sit down and come up with a really good story about that blind date with enough detail to make it believable. You know, add a funny mishap or misunderstanding. A spilled drink. A declined credit card. An attempted kiss that landed on your ear when you quickly turned your head. Make it fun. Because you’re going to be telling it for the rest of your lives.—Jenée
Dear Prudence,
I am 19 years old and a size 12—not obese, just naturally curvy. A few months ago, I started eating better and must have lost a few pounds. As a result, people keep telling me I’ve lost weight. I understand that they mean this as a compliment, and so I usually say “thank you” and change the subject. However, I was wondering if there’s some polite way to convey that, while I appreciate the “compliment,” I’m perfectly happy with my curvy self. Also, when did “You’ve lost weight” become a compliment? Wasn’t there a time when losing a noticeable amount of weight meant one was sick or malnourished? Just to clear up any confusion, I started eating better not to lose weight but simply to fix my bad habit of snacking on foods with no nutritional value while I still could. Thanks for any advice you might have.
—Curvy and Confused
Original Response:
Dear Curv,
You make an interesting observation about “You’ve lost weight” having become a compliment, if not a greeting. A good guess about when this happened would be when fashion magazines began to feature sliver-thin models, then some actresses followed suit, seeming to be in a competition to see who could eat the least without keeling over. Thin became in, size 4 became a goal, and diets joined the zeitgeist. (And of course, historically, fat people were the rich ones because they could afford the food. Now that has totally reversed.) At this point, “You’ve lost weight” has become just a friendly thing to say—accurate or not. There is no need, by the way, to convey to people that you are happy with your curvy self, or even to explain that you gave up cheese doodles in an effort to simply eat more healthfully. And let’s all remember that Marilyn Monroe was plenty curvy herself.
—Prudie, comfortably
From: Dear Prudence (Sept. 30, 2004).
Advice From the Future:
Dear Curvy and Confused,
I have no idea what Marilyn Monroe being curvy has to do with this. That aside, times have changed since 2004 and even now, in the age of Ozempic, there’s a broader understanding that not everyone wants to be “sliver thin.” More importantly, 20 years later, thoughtful people avoid suggesting to anyone that they look better smaller. Here’s why: Even for those who lose weight intentionally, all the hoopla and better treatment once they’ve dropped a few sizes can sting—it raises questions about how their friends and family saw them before and highlights how they may have been discriminated against in the past. And then there are those who drop pounds because of illness or depression. It’s not a lot of fun to know that you feel absolutely awful but nobody cares because they’re obsessing over your skinnier body, and that’s the most important thing to them.
My eyes have been opened on this issue by years of reading personal essays and social media posts online, which weren’t as big a part of life in 2004. But when you know better, you Prudie Better.
So I would say to this letter writer: You don’t have to smile through clenched teeth and say, “Thank you” just because “thin became in.” That might be the path of least resistance for people you aren’t close to and don’t see often, but when it comes to close friends and family, you’re not going to nurture close relationships by hiding your feelings. If they care about you, they should want to know if they’re saying something that’s rubbing you wrong. So try something like this: “I have lost weight. To be honest, the comments I’m getting about it make me feel kind of weird, because it wasn’t intentional and I’m getting the feeling people thought I needed to lose weight and hope I’ll lose more.” For people who you don’t like, there’s always a breezy, “Hopefully not too much! Anyway, let’s talk about YOUR body now. Where should we start? At the top? Your crow’s feet look less pronounced than I remember.”—Jenée
I’m the summer receptionist for a 25-person office. I’m 19 years old and a full-time university student during the year. I live on my own and am financially independent. Today, I went to a local cafe and picked up a muffin for lunch, which I brought back to the office to eat at my desk. The executive assistant to the company president, who’s in her late 30s and has a couple of children, stopped by my desk and proceeded to make comments such as, “Oh, why are you eating THAT? You know, a bagel would be so much better for you … that’s SO fattening!”
