Q. Last week on a plane from Heathrow I sat next to a very attractive man. We started talking and I could tell he liked me too. Unfortunately, although we established that we both live in London, the flight was not quite long enough to warrant an exchange of telephone numbers. Unfortunately he lives in Highgate and I in Balham so I am unlikely to ever see him again. Mary, how could I have managed this better? I am not on Facebook.
—Name and address withheld
A. You could have said, ‘What’s that very good pub in Highgate called?’ When he replied, for example, ‘The King’s Arms?’ You would say, ‘Yes, that’s it. I have to go up to Highgate and collect a scarf I left there. They have been keeping it behind the counter for weeks. I really must incentivise myself to go all that way back to collect it….’ Thus you would programme him into finding himself offering an incentive such as, ‘Well, do text me when you are going and I will come and have a drink with you.’
Q. A final pronouncement is required from you on an increasingly fractious and seemingly generational problem. My mother and her friends split a lunch or dinner bill regardless of who has had desserts, wine, starters etc, whereas my generation (there is a 30-year age gap, with me being mid-30s) tend to be more precise with bill calculations. What is the correct way to approach this?
— G.R., Hampshire
A. Secretly, everyone splitting a bill would far rather only pay for what they have had. This is now the custom on skiing holidays, where separate bills are requested as the waiters are taking the orders so that bills are not split equally between toddlers eating chicken nuggets and 6ft 4in alcoholics eating steak Béarnaise. Even in a multi-generational lunching scenario, it just takes one brave voice to suggest, ‘Shall we do it skiing lunch style and all have separate bills?’ In the current financial climate, only spongers are not relieved at this proposal.
Q. My wife’s best friend, who’s a lovely lady but plain, has been trying to find love through online dating. One day, when they were talking about her failure to pair up with the right man, the friend turned to me and asked if I thought she was attractive. I was thoroughly embarrassed and I am afraid I gave a stumbling, non-committal reply. How could I have given an honest answer without denting her confidence? Or, given how fragile most women’s self-esteem is, should you just lie in these circumstances and assure them they are beautiful?
—J.P., Pen-y-lan, Cardiff
A. How about, ‘I’m the wrong person to ask because you are my wife’s best friend, so I’ve always made every effort not to find you attractive.’
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