It’s Polite to Share

There’s something unsettling about the word polite. It’s meant to soften, to reassure. We use it to describe table manners, small talk, the careful words we stitch into sentences when we don’t want to offend. Politeness is supposed to be a balm against discomfort.

But what if politeness becomes the mask for betrayal? What if sharing isn’t about kindness, but cruelty disguised with a smile?

The truth is, some people know exactly how to wrap their violations in charm. They present it as generosity. They call it sharing. And their partners nod, pretend to agree, pretend to play along—because it’s easier to call it polite than to acknowledge the wound.

The Performance of Etiquette

Imagine a dinner table. The cutlery shines, wine glasses shimmer in low light, and laughter drifts across the room. Everyone is smiling. Everyone is polite.

But beneath that surface lies a different performance. The gestures are rehearsed. The smiles too wide, too sharp. Something dangerous hums underneath. It’s not hospitality—it’s theatre. And the actors know their lines well:

“Of course.”
“How thoughtful.”
“It’s only fair to share.”

The words sound generous, but the undercurrent is venom. This isn’t etiquette—it’s exploitation dressed in silk.

The Bedroom as Dining Room

Politeness stretches further than dining tables. It follows behind closed doors. Some couples’ve perfected this ritual: one partner leads, the other follows. One calls it sharing, the other calls it obligation.

The husband might offer his wife to another man with a grin, as though pouring him another glass of wine. The wife might smile back, not because she consents, but because she’s been conditioned to believe refusal would be rude.

The politeness becomes the gag in her mouth.

And the audience? They see the surface only. They see the smile, the gesture, the charming toast. They don’t see the cold in her eyes.

Violence With a Smile

We expect violence to come with anger, with blood, with screams. But some of the darkest violence comes with a smile. It comes with whispered words like, “You don’t mind, do you?” or “It’s only fair.”

There is no shouting here, no breaking of glass. Only polite suggestions. Only an endless pressure to agree. Only the hollow laugh of someone who knows they’ve been offered up like dessert at the end of a meal.

And the most terrible part? The onlookers clap. They call it civilised. They call it enlightened. They believe it’s a choice—because the mask of politeness is so convincing.

The Ritual of Sharing

In some marriages, sharing becomes a ritual. It’s rehearsed like a prayer, carried out with the precision of a liturgy.

The husband wears his pride like a medal. He claims generosity. He boasts of his fairness, his open-mindedness. But underneath it all lies a hunger for humiliation, a thirst for control.

And his wife? She becomes a token, a pawn, a thing to be passed between hands.

The ritual is perfected until it feels ordinary. Until no one flinches. Until it becomes just another part of life.

But deep down, everyone knows. Everyone feels the cost.

The Politeness Trap

Why don’t they stop? Why don’t the smiles crack, why don’t the polite words end?

Because politeness is a trap. Once you start, it’s hard to break free. To refuse after years of pretending would be to admit the truth. It would unravel the whole facade.

So the polite words keep coming. The “thank yous” and “of courses” and “don’t worries.” Each one tighter, sharper, heavier.

It’s not politeness anymore. It’s a prison.

The SEETHINGS III Connection

This isn’t an abstraction—it’s the dark heart of SEETHINGS III. Politeness becomes weaponised, intimacy becomes spectacle, and sharing is never what it seems. The characters—Sandra, Samantha, and the men who circle them—use charm like a scalpel. They dress cruelty in etiquette, betrayals in generosity, humiliation in a smile.

The novel doesn’t soften these edges. It doesn’t let politeness save anyone. Instead, it reveals the sinister truth: when betrayal is polite, it cuts deeper.

Because when cruelty wears a smile, who dares call it violence?

–Michael (Dark fiction. Author of SEETHINGS (the first book), free for a limited time)