Help! My Regular Plastic Surgeon Is Going to Notice My Mysterious Facelift.

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.

The 1990s—according to letters readers sent to Prudie—were all about affairs, internet cafe etiquette, modern chivalry, and the right way to eat bacon at the Ritz Carlton. Read on for some of our favorite Dear Prudence letters from the decade.

Dear Prudie,

A close friend is a plastic surgeon who did some minor (OK, semi-major) facial work on me in the past. The results were fine, but now I want to go to a far more famous–far more expensive–plastic surgeon for major work: a facelift.

I know my plastic surgeon friend is going to notice the changes when we get together and will likely feel hurt that I chose a competitor. How can I have my new face and my old friend at the same time?

—Fan of Uplift

Dear Fan,

There are many options. 1) You could say to your surgeon friend what Ivana Trump said: I’m very well rested, and I changed my makeup. 2) You could tell your friend that you won Dr. Famous in a raffle. 3) You could say you were in an auto accident, and the ambulance driver took you straight to Dr. Famous’ office. 4) You could be truthful and say your own version of “I was overcome by curiosity about this much talked about doc, and now I know his work is as good as yours.”

And this is to give you fortitude: Prudie’s close doctor friend tells her that good doctors understand these things and do not take affront.

—Prudie, soothingly
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Sept. 5, 1998).

Dear Prudie,

My wife and I have been married 11 years. Everything about our relationship is great, except for one very minor problem: We sleep in a king-size bed, and I feel we both might sleep better in two double beds. (I would for sure.) I am thinking of a setup like the one in I Love Lucy, where they slept in the same bedroom but in separate beds. We both move around a lot in our sleep, and I really don’t like it when a toenail pokes me somewhere unpleasant just as I am drifting off. I hesitate to bring it up with my wife, because I don’t want to hurt her feelings and have her think I don’t want to be near her, and I don’t want friends and family to think we are even weirder than they already believe we are (married 11 years, no kids). I would appreciate any suggestions.

—FSR in Fort Walton Beach, Fla.

Dear F,

Prudie can relate, having been socked a time or two by the beloved when he’s dead to the world. A good night’s sleep, however, should be your paramount concern, and not everyone is a neat sleeper.

A single bed is no barometer of a relationship. Prudie suggests you tell your wife (and not friends and family) that you are as crazy about her as ever but think two beds might improve sleep for both of you. And don’t forget to point out that “visiting” can certainly spice up the nighttime situation.

—Prudie, conjugally
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Aug. 8, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

I just had lunch at a local Internet cafe. I brought my own laptop and wireless modem, the better to read Slate in its full framed glory. I was (slowly) downloading full images while everyone else was using Lynx. I did order a cheese sandwich, and nobody gave me any dirty looks, but even so, I felt a little guilty about not spending any money for my online experience. Is it rude to bring your own digital device to an Internet cafe? What about bringing food but paying for a terminal?

—Sincerely,Somewhere in Seattle
P.S. To be specific, I’m at www.speakeasy.org, and I just finished my tasty sandwich.

Dear Somewhere in Seattle,

Prudence had never heard of an Internet cafe until she received your letter. Apparently such things do not exist east of the Rockies or north of 25 years of age. I have, however, consulted the Web site to which you refer, and now have a clue as to the subject of your query.

As I understand it, the cafe provides computers and modems for the use of its patrons for a fee and also sells food. Your question is whether it is improper for you to bring your own laptop and wireless modem, thus bypassing the fee, and to buy only a cheese sandwich.

The management of the cafe has established the rules for the use of their facility. Since they have let you in and have not kicked you out, it appears that you have not violated any of those rules. You are not being rude. But if there are many people like you, and especially if you are occupying space that might be occupied by a paying customer, the management will change the rules. They will establish a cover charge or require a minimum food purchase for the use of a table. The situation will be like that in a cabaret, where you cannot sit down at a table and watch the show without paying something.

In the meantime, until the rules are changed, it would be wise of you to leave a tip or spend more on food. Otherwise you will not get a good table or will have crumbs brushed into your laptop, even though, strictly speaking, you are abiding by the rules.

—Prudence, easterly
Herbert Stein From: Dear Prudence (Jan. 17, 1998).

Dear Prudence (and how are John and Paul?),

My girlfriend’s former boyfriend broke up with her via a note. That she was pregnant at the time makes the situation with respect to his morality quite clear: He had and has the morals of a banana slug. (That he cringes at salt shakers only bolsters this conclusion.) The question that I find interesting concerns the etiquette of breaking up. I contend that the only way one person should kiss off another is face to face. I’ve a number of reasons to support this view, but my fundamental reasoning is moral (as morality is the basis of so much mannerly behavior): In justice, the kissed-off, as the offended party, should have the right to confront (and possibly to throw sharp objects at) the kisser-off.

Any other way (by telephone, by note) smacks of cowardice. Further, it seems to me that my preferred mode serves a useful societal function as well, by making romantic relationships somewhat more stable since somewhat more difficult to dissolve during temporary difficulties. This last point, of course, presumes that society has an interest in stable romantic relationships; if you accept that society has an interest in marriage, and that stable romantic relationships both include and lead to marriage, you must conclude that society does indeed have such an interest. Have you any thoughts on this? A nation holds its breath (well, except for those holding others at gunpoint).

—Emily Post’s Meaner Brother

Dear Brother,

Whether a face-to-face encounter is required for a breakup depends on the reason for the breakup. If A splits from B because B has been obviously offensive and fraudulent, the courtesy of a face-to-face explanation is not required. Suppose, for example, that Mr. B has given Ms. A every reason to believe that he is not married, but she learns that he is. B then deserves nothing. In the case to which you refer, the young lady deserves a face-to-face meeting, an apology, and whatever solace can be offered. Probably the general rule is that a party who is seriously aggrieved owes no consideration to the aggrievor.

I am surprised that you did not mention e-mail as a medium for breakups. Isn’t there a Web site containing form e-mail letters for breakups?

They’re well, thanks.

—Prudence
Herbert Stein From: Dear Prudence (Jan. 2, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

In the past, when escorting a young woman to my automobile after, say, coming out of a restaurant, I would unlock the passenger-side door for her first before walking around to the driver’s side. On modern cars with power locks, however, unlocking the driver’s-side door automatically unlocks all other doors. This innovation makes first unlocking her door a superfluous and illogical gesture.

Where do you come down on this question of chivalry vs. logic? Is it insulting to unlock her door first when we both know it’s unnecessary?

Sincerely,
Lovelocked

Dear Lovelocked,

There is no conflict here between chivalry and logic. Chivalry requires not only that you unlock the door but also that you open the door for her, hold her arm to help her enter, see that the edge of her skirt has been removed from the door frame, and then close the door. Helping her enter can also be the occasion for sweetly kissing her on the cheek. Modern gadgets will not do all that, and real men don’t want them to. Something has to be left for the men to do.
Anyway, the idea of a conflict between chivalry and logic is mistaken. Chivalrous gestures, even though not utilitarian at one level, have a utilitarian logic at another level. Chivalrous gestures are a means of communication, and that is useful. When you hold the door for the girl, even though she is quite capable of doing it for herself, you are communicating the fact that you care about her and want to be her helper. Unless you are a great poet, it may be the best way you have of communicating those sentiments to her. Which gestures communicate what changes over time, as does other language. In my time, at least, holding the door communicated respect or affection or some other favorable emotion–depending on the personalities involved. What holding the door for your girlfriend communicates is different from what holding it for your mother-in-law does.

—Prudence
Herbert Stein From: Dear Prudence (Dec. 20, 1997).

Dear Prudence,

Last year I went to the Ritz-Carlton in Boston for a buffet-style breakfast. I went up to the buffet table and took two pieces of bacon, and when I came back to the table I was unsure of how to eat the bacon. If I tried to eat it with a fork it would crumble and if I tried to eat it with my hands, I thought the people at my table would think I was rude. I will be going back there soon and I would like to know the proper way to eat bacon.

—Clueless at the Ritz

Dear Ritz-Clueless,

Don’t worry so much about what people will think. If the bacon is crisp, pick it up with your fingers and eat it (unless you’re kosher). If it is not crisp, why bother eating it at all?

—Prudence, crisply
Herbert Stein From: Dear Prudence (Feb. 14, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

Aren’t baby boomers suffering from a surfeit of Beatles nostalgia? Wouldn’t Dear Jerry or Dear Altamont have been a nom de plume more worthy of Slate’s cutting-edge tone? I mean, even my dad is sick of hearing references to the Beatles.

—Nathan

Dear Nathan,

Prudence was prudent long before the Beatles were beat. She has no intention of being evicted from her proper name by those upstarts.

—Prudence, defiantly
Herbert Stein From: Dear Prudence (Feb. 14, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

In the good old days, when folks retired after 30 years in the same office, it was usually a moderately festive occasion. A going away gift and cards would be presented, and people would say nice things.

Today it seems that people are often hustled out of the office in the dead of night, and we learn of their departure by accident. Of course many employers have legitimate concerns about security and trade secrets and the like. And perhaps there is a human resources professional somewhere who says that cutting the cord quickly is best.

But the question remains: Should a group organize and bid adieu to someone who has suddenly disappeared?

—Your Advice, Please

Dear Your,

What with “downsizing” as commonplace as it is, the country would be engaged in one continuous “retirement” party if everyone did as you suggest. Good-hearted of you, though, to want to organize a proper farewell. If a special friend has been found redundant, as the Brits say, by all means take that person to lunch and include other interested mourners, I mean, co-workers.

—Prudie, festively
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Oct. 3, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

I couldn’t wait to get e-mail at my office, because I hate returning phone calls. Now I find I hate returning e-mails. What do I do? And what’s the proper etiquette for an e-mail kiss-off? How long can I keep saying, “Oh, I didn’t get it. Can you resend?”

Sincerely,
Anxious in Austin

Dear Anxious,

You have definitely identified a problem for the ’90s. I don’t think an etiquette has yet been formulated for this problem, so here are two jerry-built options: 1) Ignore things you wish to ignore, or 2) fluff off troublesome e’s with a brief reply. Something like “in haste” or “gotta run, but I got your message.”

And, dare Prudie say this in an online magazine? You can always say that your server screwed up … sort of the electronic version of “the dog ate my homework.”

—Prudie, briskly
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Mar. 21, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

I put before you an etiquette quandary that I faced a few years ago and may face again. I was going regularly to a New York hair salon and getting my hair cut by the salon’s owner. Was I supposed to tip him? Even a hefty $10 or $15 tip seemed a paltry thing to put in the hand of the owner of the salon. To me he was “the master,” and tips only seemed appropriate in the case of employees. I therefore refrained from handing him a potentially demeaning tip but was still left with the feeling that I should do something.

After a few visits (and no clear advice from my usually sage friends) I resolved to give him a copy of a book I had written. As a personal gift with no measurable value, it seemed a better way to thank him than to price my gratitude at 10 bucks. I have moved from New York, but if I had stayed I am not sure what I would have given him next. What should one do in such a situation?

—Striving for Graciousness in Toronto

Dear Strive,

Well, some years ago, Barbra Streisand married her hairdresser, but that seems an excessive thank-you. Because you’ve left New York, your question is hypothetical, unless, of course, you wind up in the same situation again.

As for not tipping an establishment’s owner, in terms of etiquette you are correct. Prudie, a classically trained salon-goer, recommends a grand gift at Christmastime. Such a  gift could cost the equivalent of a year’s tips if one were so inclined. BTW (as we say on the Internet) or “by the way,” Prudie was recently on your wonderful Bloor Street.

—Prudie, grandly
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Dec. 19, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

I see that every editor these days is trying to copy the tone of the wonderful advice given by the sainted Mary Killen in the Spectator. Tell me, why do you think this is? It can’t be because they have no brilliant ideas of their own, can it?

Yours expectantly,
Michael Elliott Washington, D.C.

Dear Prudence,

In recent years, one of my favorite newspaper columnists has become less and less interesting. “Eppie” (not her real name) used to write an advice column. Readers would write her with their questions on life, love, and (usually) microeconomics, and she would give them really great advice, e.g., “Wake up and smell the coffee, honey!”

Lately, however, her readers seem to have decided to become America’s Nannies, mailing in all sorts of precatory silliness–“Eppie, tell your readers never to leave a dead fish alone in a car on a hot day with the windows rolled up!” Or, “Eppie, please, please tell your readers not to make fun of fat people, such as Tipper Gore! They’re human too, you know!” And Prudence, she prints that stuff in her column! Every &@#^ day! Advice? Fahgeddaboutit, Buster! Prudence, will they ever put “Eppie” out of her misery? Do you represent the next evolutionary step in journalism? Or are you nothing more than this year’s Jeffrey Zaslow …

—Popo (not my real name)

Dear Michael and Popo,

Your letters raise related questions, and I hope you won’t mind if I answer them both at once. “Dear Prudence” did not originate with an editor searching for a new idea. It was a response to the overwhelming public demand for advice. People seek answers to their real problems, and other people enjoy and profit from reading the problems submitted and the answers given. People–“real people,” that is–are more interested in those problems than in the questions that pundits make up just so they will have something to write about, questions selected so that the answer requires little thought and no research.

As for my antecedents, I must confess that I have never heard of Mary Killen, “Eppie,” or Jeffrey Zaslow. I trace my lineage back to Joseph, Solomon, the Delphic Oracle, Cassandra, Adam Smith, and Benjamin Franklin. (I deliberately omit that old fool of an advice giver, Polonius: Banks thrive by being both borrowers and lenders.) Thus, I consider myself part of the constants of history, not part of an evolutionary trend.

But hey, it’s a free country and a free market. If no problems are submitted, there will be no answers. And if there are problems and answers but no one reads them, Prudence will go back to her needlepoint.

—Prudence, modestly
Herbert Stein From: Dear Prudence (Jan. 2, 1998).

Dear Prudie,

Please hold the morality lecture and give me an unbiased opinion and your best advice. For the past three years I have been the girlfriend of a married man. We work together. His wife really does not understand him, and he swears that if it weren’t for his young children he would bail out in a heartbeat. Without actually promising, he’s made me feel that, in time, we will formally and legally be together.

Strangely enough, his marital status is not my problem. What is disturbing is that I’m quite certain he is seeing someone in addition to me. (Office computer systems have infinite possibilities if you know what you’re doing.) Sooner or later I have to deal with this new wrinkle. Thanking you in advance, I am.

—Confused in Virginia

Dear Con,

The wrinkle you refer to is not so new. There is, in fact, a wonderful country and western song about this: “Lady, Your Husband Is Cheating on Us.”

Your specific instructions to skip the morality lecture inclines Prudie to cut right to the chase. A man for whom a wife and a girlfriend are insufficient is a louse and a tomcat. This romance will ultimately bring grief, because you will come to feel jealous and betrayed. So why don’t you pole vault out of the relationship sooner rather than later, and save yourself some time?

—Prudie, assuredly
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (April 25, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

I am overly stressed by finals, and the question haunts me: When will the insanity stop? Teachers are asking more of students every year, and it’s coming to the point where the average kid has to go to college for four years just to flip burgers. I am asking you: Why is everything so hard now—more so than 25 years ago?

—Pete Fiala

Dear Pete,

Prudie isn’t sure how to square your complaints with all the news stories about grade inflation and college-level courses such as “The Structure of the Soap Opera” and “The History of Beads.”

It is possible you are not in a college suited to your needs. If it’s any comfort, Prudie cannot imagine how she got through her own university years and sympathizes about the increasing need for degrees just to get a foot in any door.

—Prudie, empathetically
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (May 2, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

It’s been said that the five words men fear most are: “Honey, we need to talk.” Well, my wife is the one who refuses to talk. Instead of leaving normal notes, such as “Please take out the garbage” or “Don’t forget to pick up milk on the way home,” she leaves me long (four page) handwritten letters about concern for each other’s feelings, sharing chores, etc. When I ask her if it wouldn’t be easier to sit down and talk things out, she says, “Why? I’ve already put it in writing.”

I feel as though I’ve married Cyrano de Bergerac. How can I get her simply to start talking?

–I-Strain

Dear I,

Prudie will pass up the chance to point out what would be seen by some as your good fortune. A more common question might surely be “How can I get her to stop talking?”

But to address the problem at hand: Your wife, for whatever reason, is committed to an epistolary marriage. Perhaps she’s a frustrated writer, unable to get published? Perhaps she feels you tune her out? If you’ve really made an effort to hash this out, your options are to: 1) grab pen and paper yourself; 2) seek couples’ counseling; or 3) reconsider the importance to you of the written vs. the spoken word.

—Prudie, vocally
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (May 9, 1998).

Dear Prudence,

I am 45 years old and a former accomplished gymnast in Texas. During my years as a devoted gymnast, I experienced several damaging landings and falls during practice. Multiple surgeries have left me somewhat “ambulatory impaired” and unable to wear skirts/dresses with high heels. I am short in stature, wear a brace on my right lower leg, and have four stainless-steel implants in my right ankle. Wearing a skirt or dress without pumps looks pathetic on me, and people tend to stare. Well-designed pantsuits and formal pant-wear allow me to attend professional and social functions without the appearance of an obvious handicap. My question: Why do so many people take offense at my wearing pants to the many functions I must attend?

—Female Athlete

Dear Fem,

Anyone who believes women wearing pants is incorrect is antediluvian. Even the stuffy dining rooms in Boston’s most WASPy clubs allow them. Plus, Katharine Hepburn and Prudie have been wearing them for years, so you are in good company.

—Prudie, stylishly
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Oct. 22, 1999).

Dear Prudie,

I have always wanted this woman who was recently widowed. How can I approach her without seeming like a vulture? Should I, like Jerry and Elaine, make it clear that I am “there for her”?

–Mr. V.

Dear Mr.,

The Seinfeld approach would be fine. Kindness is never confused with being predatory, assuming you are already friends. Prudie would suggest you not ask the recently bereaved widow to a dancing party as your opening salvo; instead an invitation to Sunday brunch and a stroll would strike the right casual note. You won’t, of course, confess you’ve always had a yen for her. Got that?

Small caveat: Since you do not say just when the deceased shuffled off this mortal coil, check with mutual friends to see just how grief-stricken she is. If she’s in terrible shape, give her some time before you ask her out. In fact, a phone call to ask how she’s doing would be a good precursor to any invitation.

—Prudie, sensitively
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Sept. 24, 1999).

Dear Prudence,

I have been dating this man for the past year and a half. I left my husband for him, which I now know was a huge mistake. The man is still married, but he tells me that he doesn’t love his wife. He says he loves me and promises that eventually we will be together. I know being with him is wrong, however I can’t not see him. I realize the best thing to do is forget about him, but how do I do that?

—Hopeless 27

Dear Hope,

If Prudie had a nickel for every married man who swore he didn’t love his wife and that “eventually” he and the girlfriend “would be together,” her fortune would rival that of Bill Gates. Borrowed husbands are bad news–even when they leave her and marry you. Guys who cheat have a screw loose, forgive the unfortunate metaphor.

How do you forget him? You review the situation and tote up a big list of every negative thing you can think of … starting with the fact that you left your husband and your inamorato did zip. You’re the dish on the side, period. As a mechanistic approach, start acting like you’re available, spend time with the girls, get active in hobbies or groups, do things where single people meet each other. (Prudie hears that the Habitat for Humanity projects, for example, are quite a good venue.)

Now repeat after Prudie: Borrowed husbands are bad news. And if the 27 in your signature refers to your age, that’s the prime time to attract suitable men. And even if it refers to your waist, get cracking.

—Prudie, wisely
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (Sept. 24, 1999).

Dear Prudence,

A longtime friend is getting married to a guy of whom I am not a big fan. This is my friend’s second marriage, but at her fiance’s insistence, she is once again having a full-blown formal affair–including all the gift registries. I do not want to get them a gift (or at least an expensive one). I gave my friend a very special and expensive gift for her first marriage, and I know the first time around she received every gift one might give to a newly married couple. What is my obligation here? Am I letting my feelings for her fiance influence me too much?

–TH

Dear T,

Prudie’s instinct tells her your feelings are less about her fiance and more about your finances. And this is all right. Prudie’s rule for the serially married may be roughly stated as One Knock-Your-Eyes-Out Gift Per Bride Per Lifetime. There are people, by the way, who feel that two full-dress blowouts is pushing it a little. Of course you must crash through with something, but it can be both modest and in good taste. And for your own tranquility, when you write the card have your ladyfriend in mind, not the groom, so that your warmer feelings will be read between the lines.

—Prudie, festively
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (June 3, 1999).

Dear Prudence,

My daughter’s March wedding was beautiful. The reception was lovely, too, and when the time came for my daughter to toss her bouquet, all the single women gathered. So did the children at the wedding, my four nieces. They range in age from 10 to 13, but the 10-year-old is an especially energetic child–and tall for her age, too. So, before the toss, I dashed over to whisper in her ear that there were older ladies right behind her and to take care not to trip them. One of those ladies was my daughter’s new mother-in-law, who is my age, which is to say, not old … just not agile enough in high heels to compete with an athletic little girl who may not know her own strength. My niece did indeed catch the bouquet, and no one was hurt. My question is this: Should children not old enough to date, much less marry, be included in the bouquet toss? I don’t think wild horses could have kept those girls away, but I’m wondering if this is a new custom.

—Bride’s Mom

Dear Bride’s,

The catch-the-bouquet custom is meant as symbolic fun. No one really thinks the catcher is destined to become the next bride. And certainly no one expects an injury to result, meaning, of course, that decorum should be maintained at all times.

—Prudie, traditionally
Margo Howard From: Dear Prudence (June 3, 1999).