I'm here to report to you that chivalry is alive and well! I experienced it first hand in my very own living room last night.
This is play-off season for football. (I know this because my football-enthusiast husband told me so.) This means that every game played now has great significance and requires more than the usual amount of whooping, yelling, cushion-pounding, and snacking normally associated with game-watching.
You may find it odd to discover that I enjoy watching football.
"Do you keep up with the statistics?" No, I do not.
"Do you have a favorite team?" No, not at all.
"Who is your favorite player?" Tim Tebow. Such a cute kid.
The next obvious question: "Soooooo, why do you watch?"
I enjoy watching football because that's when my husband (who is almost always in perpetual motion) sits still. This allows me the opportunity to grab a blanket, my computer or a book, and snuggle in next to him on the sofa. As long as I seriously limit my questioning, he seems to enjoy the experience as well!
Over the past 31 years of "watching" football, I have learned quite a few things. And can even yell or cheer at most of the appropriate moments now.
(My first experience with football was the home game of a fellow I was dating and really wanted to impress. Once we were settled in the stands, he explained the rudiments of the game as quickly as possible.
When a player ran through the goal-thingies, I jumped to my feet and cheered LOUDLY - to demonstrate my interest. Unfortunately, it was a player for the other team scoring the first touchdown. People all around us turned to me and boo-ed LOUDLY! Sigh.)
Back to the issue of chivalry.
Yesterday actually had TWO big games and my husband really wanted to watch both. I napped during the first one then joined him for the second one with all the "Daniel-fast snack foods" I could think of.
The second game ended around 8:30 and Frank handed the remote control to me. (This is a rare occurrence in our home as the remote kind of doubles as a scepter of sorts. Smile.)
Frank had closed his eyes for a moment, so I stopped the channel surf on a PBS broadcast of a British program that caught my interest. The costumes, the location, the rich accents, the plot - it all sucked me in within moments.
Suddenly I realized that Frank was watching too. "Oh, Honey, we can watch something else," I said and offered the remote back to him.
That's when he decided to do the most chivalrous thing I had experienced in some time.
The man who had just spent the afternoon watching aggressive, passionate play on a field of battle. The man who (during commercials) simultaneously watched a movie about vehicles that transformed into huge creations battling for the existence of earth as we know it. The man who had pounded one of my throw pillows ruthlessly.
That same man came over, sat with me on the love seat, asked questions about the plot, demonstrated genuine interest and made a heroic effort to stay awake through the slow ramblings of a true British love story!
(Yes, I hear the collective "AWWWW!")
And that, my friends, is chivalry at its finest! Think I'll keep him another thirty-one years, at least!