European Courtesey

Spike's cousin and her friend James from Scotland were visiting last night. It was another opportunity for me to experience first hand the difference between those Euro boys and our American variety. James was so incredibly polite! And no, it's not just that they have that delightful accent. He would wait to go down stairs until all the ladies had gone before him, kept insisting on carrying all my things, opened all doors (of course) and was very well spoken. I would love for my children to be raised in Europe and come home with that easy confidence. Here in California, I never notice when men don't do those things, but am always pleasantly surprised when they do. Chivalry is as good as dead in America which is probably indicative of needed progress, but at the same time is mildly depressing.

But who am I to complain about the lack of chivalry. It seems quaint when my visiting European indulges in it, but in everyday experiences when Johnny Tennessee tries to open a car door for me, I feel extremely awkward. I dated a guy who had to both open and close all doors that I went through. I spent a lot of time waiting for him to do things for me that would have been much more efficient to do myself but couldn't talk him out of it. I had been dating him for a few months when I met Spike and was instantly charmed away by Spike's complete disregard for propriety. I dropped that polite guy like a sack of bricks for my Montana savage.

Even though I'm not one to demand chivalry in my own life, it is comforting to know that it still exists. Having a door opened for me once a blue moon seems like a luxury instead of what it really is which is inefficient. It's fun to pretend I'm a Jane Austin character for a day but I would never want to wake up morning after morning as a bonnet-wearing, cross-stitch sewing gentlewoman unable to take out the trash. So I bid a fond adieu to all things chivalrous - except that little bit about me having to mow the lawn. We'll keep that one.