Cannibalism in Polite Society

Now you can't help liking X.Y. when you first meet him, he is such a big, jolly, generous chap, always ready for any prank or amusement. But when, X.Y. eats, poetry and romance vanish and so does your appetite, owing to his almost ghoulish enjoyment of food and his utter absorption in the pursuit of it... If I dared I would tell this man that he is a cannibal; that his gross way of eating is an offense to society; that if he must gorge in such fashion, he should do so in private. If I dared, I would also warn him that any girl who thought of marrying him would think again if she sat opposite him at the table.
  — Image source T&C Magazine

“A Glutton Is a Bore!” 

(and he’s eating up his social and dating life)

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What I Would  Tell A Man If I Dared

By A Pretty Girl

Now you can't help liking X.Y. when you first meet him, he is such a big, jolly, generous chap, always ready for any prank or amusement. But when, X.Y. eats, poetry and romance vanish and so does your appetite, owing to his almost ghoulish enjoyment of food and his utter absorption in the pursuit of it. “Isn't this soup just grand?” he would sputter, with his face, now suffused with a deep red, almost buried in the plate — and not a word of general conversation can be had out of him until every viand has been commented upon and consumed and the last sip of cordial swallowed. 

And X. Y. has made a science of restaurants. None of the cheaper ones ever know his presence, but his sighs of disappointment or explosions of anger over dishes that fail to bring back the first “fine careless rapture” of tasting them make you play never to be around when the “eats” are poor. He will surely burst with rage. The amount consumed equals the enthusiasm of the attack. An enormous beef-steak dinner before the play, signifies nothing. He will go to supper afterward with the zest of a starving man. If a dish is declined by any one, he growls: “Get into the game! Get into the game!”

If I dared I would tell this man that he is a cannibal; that his gross way of eating is an offense to society; that if he must gorge in such fashion, he should do so in private. If I dared, I would also warn him that any girl who thought of marrying him would think again if she sat opposite him at the table. X.Y. took a trip to Europe last summer, and, of course, rained picture-postals on his friends, as all travelers do. One of the girls wagered that they would be all restaurant scenes, and they were. He might be said to have eaten, his way over Europe. 

Out of him, on his return, could be pried no word pictures such as the others of his party painted, of wonderful snow-clad mountains, of quaint village scenes, of glimpses of royal splendor. Instead, he dwelt lingeringly on the vast “eats” he had encompassed. Venice was remembered as the place where he had chanced upon his favorite brew of beer. If I dared, I would say to this man, and to all others like him: “Don't think for a minute that anybody else cares what you ate or are going to eat, so if you want to be popular you’d better lift your eyes above your plate and see what there is in the world.”

I was taught, as most girls are, to regard eating, as a rite to be celebrated with conversation and laughter and with the utmost possible concealment of animal zest for food. Sometimes, when the humorous side of it strikes me, I feel like saying to my gourmandizing friend: “Oh, why do you show such spite against the little lamb in his bed of green peas or the little chicken smothered in gravy? I fear that some time you may devour me if dinner happens to be delayed or the meal turns out a failure, as meals sometimes will. In your passionate regard for food I scent a victorious rival. Adieu, Monsieur X.Y. Return to your muttons — alone.”— San Francisco Call, 1909

Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J Graber, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia