Don't Bring Your Politics on a Date
A few weeks back, I made the mistake of joining my boyfriend on a double date with another couple, a friend and her partner. As the evening unfolded, it became clear why this arrangement was ill-advised – modern times seem to have little tolerance for traditional acts of chivalry.
My boyfriend takes it upon himself to open car doors. He bears the weight of heavy shopping bags, and ensures my comfort by pulling out my chair whenever we dine out, a habit he maintains almost without fail. When descending stairs, he often leads the way, extending a helping hand, particularly if I'm wearing heels. He readily allows me to lean on his arm when fatigue sets in after a long day. Even on hiking excursions, where my experience exceeds his, he offers assistance. Despite my playful teasing about his tendency to drive below the speed limit, he becomes even more cautious when I'm in the car. When crossing roads, he consistently positions himself between me and oncoming traffic, even if it means crossing over to the other side on divided highways. On cold evenings, he takes off his coat and offers it to me.
It’s probably not just him. I saw my father doing similar things for my mother. I recall my frail grandfather, despite his failing eyesight, extending his hand (albeit in the wrong direction) to assist my grandmother down the stairs. It's evident that this sense of chivalry is deeply ingrained, likely passed down through generations. However, in a more modern social context, such displays of consideration and deference may not always be met with the same appreciation they once were, particularly among certain circles of friends.
Returning to the unfortunate date, discomfort only surfaced when it was time to settle the bill, a point of contention for those who struggle to keep politics separate from romance. Typically, my boyfriend handles the bill during our outings, while I take care of expenses on trips away from home. We have a system.
As the men headed to the parking lot, my friend took the chance to voice her thoughts to me. "Did it bother you that your boyfriend paid the bill without even checking if you wanted to split it?" she asked.
"Well, not really. Why is it such a big deal?" I responded, bracing myself for a potentially awkward discussion.
"I would have been offended if my partner did that!" she exclaimed. "It's like they think I'm incapable of paying for myself!"
"I don't think it implied anything like that," I countered. "On a first date, my expectation is typically for the man to cover the bill. However, I do prefer to choose a more modest setting, like a coffee shop, to keep expenses reasonable. After that initial date, I usually suggest splitting the bill until I feel more at ease with the person. Now that we've been together for years, we tend to handle expenses jointly without keeping tabs on who paid for what."
She was silent for a minute, and then went on to say, “And don’t you mind when he opens the car door for you, as if you’re incapable of doing that for yourself?”
I chuckled. “No, I see it as a considerate gesture. Sure, I'm perfectly capable of opening my own car door, pulling out my own chair, or crossing the road independently, and there are times when he forgets too. But it's not about proving my ability to do so, especially when he's simply trying to be attentive and caring during a date. I enjoy cooking for him and taking care of him; why not allow him the same pleasure of taking care of me on a date?”
"But you're strong and independent. Surely, you should make that clear to him," she suggested, her tone hesitant.
“But if I truly am all those things, why should I feel the need to constantly assert it? I like being independent, but I also don’t want to think so much before depending on my loved ones for the smallest of things.”
"But why not?" she pressed.
“It kills the romance.”
Image Source: It Happened One Night (1934)

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