Writer's Block

The USA is the place I was born. Canada is the place I was raised. Taiwan is the place in my heart.

Sunday, June 26, 2005

She used to shrug off the opening of doors and courtesies of men; these were manners which were simply remnants of a bygone era. There was even a twinge of annoyance with each gesture. Such chivalry had risen from a time when women were considered the weaker sex, imprisoned by hooped skirts, suffocating corsets, and social expectations. Women helped in and out of horse carriages. Women in waiting, indolent, idle, confined to the walls of her home. Women toiling, exhausted, confined to the endless work of the household.

She didn’t expect doors to be opened for her; she didn’t wait for doors to be opened for her. She’d open her own doors before men had a chance to do so and if she got there first she’d hold the doors open for them.

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He opened the door for her allowing her to enter first, and walked in behind her. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, he waited for her to follow the waiter up the stairs, to their table, taking her seat first, before him. This wasn’t chauvinism, it was elegant, new old-fashioned respect. The innuendos, associations and presumptions were no longer there.

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