Unless a “man” has somehow been able to transcend into Jordan Catalano, there is very little excuse for him to act in a manner that suggests he hasn’t just noticed you enfeeble yourself by politely saying “Hey” in such settings as a party, a mutual friend’s home or when trapped in an ATM vestibule waiting for the next machine to be available (it happens often, just ask Chandler). Even when you barely know him and you’re just trying to unfreeze the icy gap caused by a lack of social reconnaissance.

When “he” stares blankly back at you, possessing the simultaneous blank and enraged expression of someone who has just been given a colonic, you will wonder why you even bothered to engage in twentieth century social graces in a twenty-first century world, where “men” can, at best, only grunt, sneer and grab themselves in response to just about everything.