The Problem with the Gentleman

I am so gotdamn sick of gentlemen.

Not actual nice guys, not at all. You guys are treasures.

No, I am referring to men who walk about bragging about their good home training, their respect for women, how good of a husband they will make someday and how women are queens and princesses, yet bash these same women when they don’t worship their manners, or patience, or when they bring up male privilege, or dare to be feminists. The men who take to their Facebook walls and bemoan the death of all the “real women”, the ones who like flowers and phone calls and dinner dates over texting and pizza and Netflix. Everyone likes clubbing and turning up and thugs and selfies and blah blah fucking blah.

Shut up. All yall shut up. You’re making me itch.

Those women are real women, sure. I am also a real woman.

One that doesn’t relate well to the way men are socialized to relate to women. One that never has time for a full phone call unless you are family that doesn’t stress me out, hates flowers (I live in a closet in Chicago, where do you expect me to put them) and prefers spur of the moment “hey, wanna go do this one thing” over anticipated, preplanned dates any day of the week. This doesn’t make me less than anything. This makes me an individual. Like EVERY OTHER PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD, MALE OR FEMALE, I AM AN INDIVIDUAL.

Gosh.

Many of the gentlemen that I have experienced don’t want to realize this past a certain point.

I mean sure, you’re strong, but you want my protection.

You want to get married someday.

You want to be committed to a good man. One who is faithful and doesn’t cheat.

An accomplished one who can take care of you. A man like me.

Guys like me are rare.

You should consider yourself lucky to have me.

Even if I talk my face off about who I am and what I want, these men never fully get to know me because they are using chivalry in the place of listening. Their version of “treat her right” includes the aforementioned flowers, the pre-planned dates, the opening of car doors and helping me down the steps. I’d rather we talk, often and sometimes heatedly about things that we passionately love and hate, but takes more effort than holding open a car door and so I am the bad guy.

I have a big problem with the education of the gentleman. You have been socialized to think that women are simpler beings who only need a few things in order to be happy, should be cherished and safe, but not much else.

Society has taught you that all you need to be is a gentleman. Not a friend, not an equal, not even a soulmate. Make her fell safe and special on your dates and you are off the hook. You win.

No.

If you have not evolved past that socialization then I give you no credit for your chivalry.

Especially if it is something that you still insist on doing by the third date, which means you probably haven’t been listening to me at all. We won’t be going out again, sir, if your good home training taught you that because of my gender I am merely a person to be protected.

If you were listening at all you would know that I am a person to challenge.

If you were watching at all you’d see that I’m a person to compete with (in a friendly way, of course).

If you heard a word I said you would know that I’m all about the battle of the wits, that I love conversations with passion, and that the only thing that trumps a rigorous debate is rigorous exercise.

You would know that I am very sexual and not ashamed of it.

You would know that this was not always the case.

You would find out that I value my confidence over your acceptance.

You would know that I walk fast and so I will always beat you to the door, will splash into puddles, will stand up for you and to you, and like being on the traffic side of the sidewalk because I think I’m better at catching cabs than you are.

You would know that I want to know what powers you, what pisses you off, and why.

You would see that I am not sizing you up for how good of a husband you might be in the future.

You would learn that I have no expectations for you because my life is already full and happy. I don’t need you to fill a role that’s currently empty. I’m looking to see whether you can add to my life, and whether I can add to yours.

Are we good for each other?

Can we make each other better?

I will only let you protect me if you let me protect you too.

I threw my “perfect man” checklist out over half a decade ago and just a want real, true connection.

I don’t care about your home training. Unless that includes cooking. Because you would have also learned by now that eating is my first love.

I’d rather be treated like a human than a queen.

I am definitely nobody’s princess.

Quit asking Facebook if the death of chivalry is killing relationships. It doesn’t have to. The death of gender equality already did that.