I’ve lived in the south officially for almost ten years now. There are definitely some cultural differences, some weather differences and some culinary differences. I’ve grown accustomed to pimento cheese as a sandwich option and the assumption that I’ll take sugar in my tea (I won’t, by the way). I appreciate southern manners and enjoy it that people will make eye contact and return my smile when I’m out and about in town. I like living in a small town with street festivals and music festivals and 5Ks and bike runs and Southern Gospel quartets in the park (I like the idea of the quartet being there even if I don’t necessarily enjoy Southern Gospel music…).
One thing I love is that chivalry is not altogether dead around here. Now, I know I’m an independent woman. I know I can open doors and cross puddles and handle walking on the curb-side of the street. I know that I am not a damsel in distress.
But there’s just something about “Let me get that for you!” and then stepping through a door held open for me. I really enjoy it when Jason carries my bags for me or opens my car door. I love it when a young boy grabs a door or waits for me to go first because it means someone’s teaching the next generation to be polite and chivalrous. And it’s nice when an elderly gentleman stands up when I enter the room or tips his hat to me.
So, listen up guys: Hold the door, carry the heavy stuff, pull out a chair and walk on the curb side! It’s not the rule anymore, I know, but it sure does make you look good.