Asking for someone’s phone number — in a platonic way

Dear Miss Manners: I enjoy meeting new people and making new friends, whether it’s at a party or at work. I’d like to think that I’m good at picking up on social cues and knowing when someone is enjoying socializing with me (as opposed to just being nice or cordial).

So how do adults ask, “Can we stay in touch and hang out sometime?” without sounding like they are hitting on you or asking you out on a date? I feel awkward asking people for their phone number, email, or even their social media info due to previous social faux pas.

This wasn’t really an issue during my college years. But it’s happened at least twice in the past three years that a person I befriended thought I was romantically interested in them, as opposed to just wanting to be friends. I’m friendly and enthusiastic, but I don’t consider myself a flirt.

What are the proper manners for pursuing adult friendships?

Group settings tend to be much more conducive to putting acquaintances at ease than one-on-ones — which do lend themselves to more intimate implications.

“I am having a get together/outing/party and I would love for you to come” is a way to ease into a new friendship. Then, if you get a dubious look, Miss Manners suggests that you add reassurance by saying, “Of course, if you have a partner, bring that person, too.”

Gentle reader:

Dear Miss Manners: A friend of mine from high school, whom I have seen a few times in the intervening 50 years, came to my home with his wife. They suggested they would like a tour of our home, but I deflected this request.

Our home is relatively comfortable and wellkept, but not exceptional. I am a very private person and do not care to invite acquaintances, strangers or even friends to gawk at my personal space or paw through my belongings.

When we entered our home, my friend’s wife began to wander freely throughout while I talked to her husband. From across an open area I saw her pick up items in my workspace or pull them aside to see what was beneath. I was so stunned by her rudeness that I said nothing at the time.

Can you please offer a polite rejoinder for such occasions? It seems inhospitable to call out, “As I implied earlier, I do not care to give you a tour of our home. Can you please join us, Megan?”

Loading the medicine cabinet with marbles is tempting, but installation and clean up would be very time-consuming.

Such a request from an acquaintance and a stranger who have arrived for a brief visit seems wildly inappropriate, but perhaps I am missing something here? Are requests for home tours now considered a polite means to express interest in others?

Gentle reader: Unwitting guests who have been forcibly taken on such tours may now think so — and suddenly feel required to ask.

A polite response to the inquiry might be, “Oh we don’t want to bore you with that; there’s really not much to see.” And then Miss Manners suggests that you tell Megan that she will not want to miss appetizers in the living room — and politely decline all requests for help in the kitchen.

My childhood friend’s young daughter just tragically died. I am heartbroken for her.

I feel like I just don’t have the words to express my sympathy, and I surely don’t want my expressions to be about me. I don’t have children of my own, but I have nephews and nieces at the same age, and I can’t imagine what life would be like if I lost them.

I want to throw a blanket around my friend and make it all better, but I know that’s a silly concept. How do I express my sympathy and love without making it about me? I feel so sad for my friend and her family.

Dear Miss Manners:

Gentle reader: You are quite right to be aware of not making this about you. How you would feel if you lost a niece or nephew may help you empathize with your friend, but it is not likely to comfort her for having lost a child.

Sadly, the only thing you can offer your friend is friendship: listening, responding to her needs, helping in practical ways.

Miss Manners has noticed that those who think they can do more — who insert themselves, or presume to counsel the bereaved on how to handle their grief — often inflict damage.