I don’t need to tell you that chivalry is dead. I know that because you’re sitting here reading my blog instead of being showered with flowers and tickets to Disney Land.
No one’s ever gotten me tickets to Disney Land, or flowers for that matter, at this point I’d be pleasantly surprised to receive weeds. The prospect of the spontaneous phone call has been replaced by the impersonal text message and taking a girl out means pulling her away from the people she’s dancing with to ask her the very important question of “do you want to hook up?”.
Which probably explains why recently I’ve noticed that girls are afraid to admit that they want to be treated nicely. I’m pretty sure in 10 years time the majority of my generation is going to be married to people they met in a club because they went on a drinking binge and felt something “magical” while hooking up. I shouldn’t even be typing that, we shouldn’t be hooking up. Why would you show a pretty girl how you feel about her by giving her a venereal disease? What’s romantic about mouth herpes? Nothing.
My grandfather was engaged when he met my grandmother in an elevator, he decided she was the most beautiful woman in the world and subsequently dumped his fiance for a random stranger and they lived disfunctionally ever after until he died. My other grandparents instructed ballroom dancing and used to waltz around the kitchen until my gran’s artificial hip replacement.
These stories are real. The men in them were dedicated, probably took their women to see the Enchanted Castle as much as they wanted and definitely did not attempt weird club sign language with them like point to their lips and mouth “make out”.
I guess the glory days of chivalry are over.
And if you’re going to get me weeds, make them dandelions.