Saturday 4 February 2012

A Question of Honour

I fell in love yesterday.  I boarded the train with my pregnant friend and saw a very attractive gentleman clock her bump, jump out of seat faster than a cork popping out of champers and wave her over.  As my knees turned to jelly and my heart started fluttering I was pleased to notice that she had her left hand resting on her bouncing baby, her wedding ring flashing in the fluorescent light.  But unfortunately my mystery man got off at the next station; that was a short lived romance, even by my standards.

            A recent date of mine had a habit of pushing past me whenever there was a funnel neck in a crowd, and hopping onto trains whilst leaving me hovering on the platform; rightly or wrongly that was it for me.  Conversely I once dragged a relationship out for six months as every time I tried to break it off he’d take my jacket, hold open a door or utter those three magical words ‘please, allow me’.  Then there was the guy who wouldn’t let me walk on the outside of the pavement.  I didn’t fancy him in the slightest, but by the end of that evening I could happily have had his children.

            The thing is, I adore chivalry.  I am self-sufficient, I make my own decisions and I’m my own agent, but as soon as I become the subject of such manners (or witness it in close quarters) I’m putty.  I know that some believe gallantry is dead, whilst others would argue that there is no place for it in the twenty-first century world, but I just can’t get enough!  What are your thoughts? 

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