In Poker, they are called Tells. Little tics of character that a player inadvertently reveals about the cards in his hand — all the while convinced that his poker face gives away nothing. Sometimes we do the same in the game of life, projecting, for example, the brass of Sir Lancelot beneath an empty helmet.

How do you tell the real knights from the Knights Who Say Ni? For better or worse, you can tell a lot about a man by…

• The size of his feet compared to the size of his mouth (ideal: big feet; small mouth)

• The number of times he has used locker-room-talk sans locker room.

• The way he reacts to news that, once again, he has not won a Nobel Prize: Dali Lama humility? Incredible Hulk outrage? Sister Mary Bruno humble-my-holy-butt choke hold?

• The song he sings in the shower (related: does he do the drum parts?)

• The way he deals with a stink bug: Vicious heel stomp? TP cocoon flush? Escort to front door, bus ticket out of town, stern warning never to return?

• Who plays him in his bio flic: Robert DeNiro or William H. Macey.

• The word he tries to make a belch sound like (RRRRRipvawinkle! Rrrrrrrappahannock! Grrrrrronk!)

• His sixth sense in knowing exactly when to speak and when to shut up.

• His seventh sense that tells him to keep speaking anyway.

• Whether or not his health plan covers onomatopoeia.

• His capacity for reading blank verse without saying “Hey, this poem doesn’t rhyme.”

• His choice of the better guitar player: Lennon or Harrison.

• The way he reacts when a bear walks into a bar and takes the stool next to him: Cool indifference? Google-eyed surprise? Awkward attempt at selfie with arm around bear’s shoulder, with bear grabbing selfie stick and performing unscheduled sigmoidoscopy?

• His capacity for patience while waiting patiently.

• Whether or not the screen door hits him on the way out.

• His quickness at naming his favorite poem without using the word Nantucket.

• His ability to form power chords while playing air guitar.

• How often he’s been gored by a bull.

• His insistence on butchering Jerusalem Ridge on the five-string instead of saying “Nope, don’t quite have that one surrounded yet.”

• The way he excuses himself. (Hold that thought, my back teeth are singing. Gotta see a man about a dog. You never own beer, you just rent it.)

• The way he pronounces the word strength (hint: can you hear the g? Is he patient when you remind him there is a g?)

• His memory of where he was the day the music died.

• His lifetime batting average at telling shit from Shinola.

• His track record for hitting the cutoff man.

• How long it takes him to remember the Alamo.

• His grasp of the 12 times table.

• His philosophy on pocket squares (blow and reposition; never blow because it’s a fake hanky anyway; forehead sweat mop–emergencies only).

• The non-letter/number in his password.

• The tone of his voice when telling birds chirping outside his window in the morning to zip it.

• His uncanny sense in knowing when to take a shower.

• His canny sense that tells him he can go one more day/week/month without a shower.

• How quickly he returns a borrowed tissue.

• Whether he can hold it in, at least until the pope leaves the room.

• The way he tells you a lot about himself, when you knew the instant he walked in the door.

©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013-2016, all rights reserved.