A sensibly cheap man about town asks for Manhattan advice, which we're always too eager to offer:

I am invited to a birthday dinner this Saturday. The birthday girl, being the kind of shrewd New Yorker that agrees to go on a date to get a free meal, has picked one of the fancier places around. I like her — but I simply don't want to haul out hundreds of dollars at a restaurant I wouldn't even treat myself to, and I know that one of her obnoxious banker friends is going to "let them bottles coming" like it was 19 fucking 99. This made my "share" of the bill last year amount to almost 200 bucks. What do I do?

There are, naturally, numerous answers to your question, none of them Ethicist-approved:

1. Who the hell has a birthday party on a Saturday night in July? You shouldn't even be in town! It's not even a stretch to tell chick that you're all up in a Hampton this weekend. Skip the damn thing. Manhattan friends aren't friends from Friday to Sunday, hello.

2. If you must attend, make money, don't lose it! Out-drink, out-eat, out-smart, and let everyone else pick up their share of your dinner.

3. Do what everyone else seems to do — make your handlers pay for it. (If you don't have handlers and a PR firm, you should arrange that before Saturday. No entourage though — they cost money.)

4. Simply leave before the check. Fake food poisoning, an emergency phone call, a seizure, a fight, death, chlamydia, anything that gets you the fuck outta there around the time dessert is served. Become that unpredictable zany friend that everyone puts up with because everyone else is so damn boring.

5. Stop being such a cheap bastard and pony up like the rest of us. This is Manhattan symbiosis — you pay for my exorbitant birthday party, and I pay for yours. Get over yourself.