A rule follower confesses

Francky Knapp loves restaurant decorum: dressing up, waiting at the host stand, quietly redistributing small plates as the meal goes on. Gold stars all around.

“I enjoy the martyrdom role of reorganizing the table's contents as the meal unfolds”

Except about seating

Every one of those rules goes out the window at one moment: choosing where to sit. Given the chance, Knapp takes the seat next to their companion, not across from them.

The server noticed

"Oh, so you're side-by-side people," a cocktail bar server said. Harmless, maybe, but it scratched at a real shame around sitting next to whoever you came with.

“Oh, so you're side-by-side people”

Cringe or codependent

Critics treat it as PDA, a tier or two below making out at the bar. Knapp's answer: haven't you ever given in to the corniness of love?

“Haven't you ever given in to the corniness of love?”

A restaurant built for it

At Cynthia, a tasting-menu spot in the West Village, the side-by-side tables have plush settees and ceiling curtains that half-hide the sides for privacy.

“My partner and I try to sit side by side in any restaurant we can”

The practical case

Eater colleagues piled on in Slack. You can hear your friend in a loud room without shouting, and their old picnic T-shirt stays out of your food photos.

Blame the pilgrims

Knapp pins the shame on buttoned-up American roots. The French do not treat it as a taboo, and neither should anyone sweating over a table for two.

In cahoots beats across

Sitting side by side turns two people into a team, like the Muppet hecklers in the balcony. Less island of propriety, more shared conspiracy over dinner.

“I'm having dinner, but most of all, I'm in cahoots.”