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There appears to be an unspoken agreement between the two of them.
Blanche takes a few bites from her entree and then slides her plate across to Calvin.
(Think of Susan Hayward in .) What’s more, “mistresses” know how to keep their mouths shut — maybe out of some misguided, self-flagellating sense of loyalty, or maybe as a means of just making sure their mortgage payments continue to get covered.
But nobody these days, whether they’re part of the John-Rielle-Elizabeth triangle or a participant in the Sandra-Jesse-Michelle trifecta, seems to have any resistance to the temptation to talk, especially when a hot microphone is within shouting distance, when there’s a seat available on Oprah’s sofa, or when there might even possibly be a book deal in the offing.
And it’s hard to tell who’s most at fault — the feckless and the forsaken who can’t manage to keep their mouths shut, or the rest of us who can’t resist the urge to eavesdrop.
Maybe the question that needs to be asked of everybody — the philanderers, their ill-used other halves, and the rest of us who just can’t stop flipping through knows, of course, the wry-making irony of putting Princess Grace on the cover of its “Tiger’s Girlathon” issue. (Nobody seems quite sure how many of her leading men she slept with; she seems to have felt no particular urge to say whether she did or didn’t — grown-up, inexpressibly beautiful people of her age simply screwed around, and nobody seems to have dared to have pressed the awkward questions — how often, and if ever, and with whom? Imagine the naughtinesses lost forever, before the advent of e-mail. “The innocent and the beautiful,” Yeats says, ‘Have no enemy but time.” Grace Kelly seems to have known how to stop the clock. — John March 16, 2010 in bryan curtis, dating, entertaining, etiquette, friendships, john bridges, manners, relationships, romance advice, Uncategorized | Tags: cheap restaurant customers, dating, eating off other people's plates, ordering in restaurants, restaurant manners, sharing food in restaurants, splitting the tab, table manners | Leave a comment My friend Minerva is fed up with her cousins.
Ladies were even instructed in the stirring of cocktails.
His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, never said, “Excuse me,” or “Pardon me,” of course.
The class of gentlemen who grew up around him, and who wandered about, slim in their good suits, but lost in his bulky, overwhelming shadow, spent much of their time saying “Excuse me,” and “Pardon me,” to people they had never met.
.) It’s stunning, by today’s standards, to note that, as young Miss Kelly, Oscar winner and fiancee to the Monagasque Prince Ranier, could actually pursue their multi-continental courtship in 1956, writing actual letters back and forth to each other, with nobody–at least as far as we know — steaming open the envelopes. In tiny print, up in the right hand corner of its current cover, quotes a couple of lines from W. To put it more precisely, she’s fed up with the way they feed each other.
The cousins (let’s call them Calvin and Blanche, since, having actual names of their own, they truly do exist) have been married forever — at least 40 years.
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One may assume that Margienne’s invite, deeply engraved, is stuck there simply for purposes of information, intimidation and the setting down of boundaries.