Chivalry and Romance

My fiancee and I got in a big fight last night. Granted, it probably shouldn't have been that big of a deal, but I'm an only child and I tend to get overly sensitive when criticized about certain things. One of the things that I cannot stand being criticized about is my treatment of women. Much of my early life was spent witnessing and being a part of a horrific cycle of abuse at the hands of a man I would never call my father, but unfortunately provided half of my DNA. The physical and psychological terror unleashed upon my mother and I changed our lives forever. After my mom and I escaped from this abusive relationship, my mom made it a point to teach me how to truly treat a woman the right way. My father, the man she has been married to for over 20 years now and the man who raised me, is one of the kindest and most gentle men you could ever meet. I also went to private school where I was forced to go to cotillion, which is basically a program to teach teenage boys manners; that and how to foxtrot. It's nice that I always know which fork goes with which course, but I'm still not sure when I'll ever need to break out the Charleston.

With all this background, I like to think that I am pretty well-trained at treating people well. I open doors for everyone; especially my fiancee. I'm always the last to enter a room behind my fiancee and other women we may happen to be with. If we're on a dinner date I'll stand when she goes to and returns from the restroom. Last night we were at a housewarming party that was outdoors. She was cold but neither of us had a jacket. I was wearing a long-sleeve shirt with a sleeveless shirt underneath. I offered her my thermal, which would leave me at a nice dinner party in a tank top. She laughed. I wasn't joking. But then I committed two cardinal sins in a row. I got myself food and a cocktail without offering to get her anything...I know, I know, bad move. But let me explain a few points to put it into perspective:

1) my fiancee is a social butterfly and I was starving. When we got into the party my fiancee had to exchange small-talk with everyone, and I mean everyone. We had to take a tour of the house of course, talk about the rent, etc. This would have normally been fine except for one thing; there were ribs. You see, I love ribs. I love the flavor, I love the texture, I love the act of eating a rib. And the ribs were specially made by a friend of ours who just so happens to make the best ribs on the face of the planet. I'm salivating now just thinking about them. There were 50 invitees to the party, and only 2 racks of ribs. They were going to go fast. Naturally as soon as we got outside to where the food was set up, I went to grab some ribs while my fiancee caught up with each of the 15 people outside. My fiancee is also doing the "I have to lose x amount of lbs to look smoking hot in my wedding dress" diet. I try to be supportive even though I think she already is smoking hot, so I figured no ribs for her, right? I mean, she even brought her own salad in a bag to the party! So that was my first gaffe, even though she probably would have said no, I should have offered.

2) my fiancee is a bartender, and she's very particular, especially with drinks. She watches the baristas at Starbucks like a hawk to make sure they get her tall, skinny, caramel latte with no foam exactly right. Cocktails are even worse because she is a bartender, and a very good one. Often times when we go out she will actually manage to work her way behind the bar and make her own drink (like I said she's hot, and she's also very charismatic). This being the case, I'm scared to death to make cocktails for her. I'm easy. 3 steps. Find whiskey or bourbon, add soda. Stir with finger. She's a bit more complicated. She only likes certain brands of vodka. She can only stand certain types and brands of juice. The ratio of juice to booze has to perfect. The cocktail has to be shaken with ice, then poured into a glass with the exactly perfect amount of ice. There's always a splash or twist of something at the end. It's like building a fucking rocket ship. Needless to say I didn't make her a drink right when I made mine. The problem was; I didn't even ask.

While gestures like this may seem small to us guys, they are in fact huge to our ladies. When we got home and she called into question my chivalry and romance, I lost it because I didn't think about it that way. I felt like she had forgotten all of the other small gestures that I do every day to try and make her happy. To me those things are important to, and at times it seems as if woman forget that there are A LOT of guys that don't ever do any of these things. She was feeling forgotten and I was feeling that the things I do do were being taken for granted. I think my mistake is that I spoiled her early on by going too big on the chivalry thing to quickly in the relationship. Perhaps I should have been more of an arrogant prick in the beginning. Maybe I should've let her open her own car door a few times. Maybe I should've let the door slam in her face once in a while. But that's just not me, and it never will be, so I guess it's my own fault that I've built standards that are sometimes difficult to live up to 24/7. But I'll sure as hell try to do my best to make her feel as special as she is.

And next time I'll get the girl some goddamned ribs and a cocktail.