The worst first date I ever went on was with a self-described “gentleman.” At first, I was pleasantly surprised by his grand gestures: he opened every door for me, he made sure I walked in first, and he even offered me his jacket when I mentioned I felt a draft. It was nice, I guess.
But then there were other things. He called our waitress (who was probably the same age as us) “ma’am,” he ordered for me (as if I can’t use my own voice to tell the waitress what I want?) and the worst first date move of all time: he brought me flowers. ICK.
Let me clear things up: flowers, on their own, are a very romantic gesture. Too romantic. Flowers are for anniversaries or Valentines Day after you’ve already committed to sleeping with each other and only each other. Flowers on a first date just scream “try-hard.” And that’s exactly what they are — they’re a trick to get girls to look past flaws that would otherwise be completely noticeable. Sure, this guy was a gentleman, and I’m sure his mother is very proud of his first date manners. But he was also incredibly boring and kind of stupid. But when he walked me to my door that night and kissed me goodnight, he almost had me convinced. I had to really think about the substance of that date, rather than his “chivalrous” actions, and only then did I realize that this date was kind of a dud.
Unsurprisingly, that was our last date. This happened years ago, and I haven’t been on a date like that since. Obviously, I don’t miss it at all. My dates since have been casual, cool, and a few even ended in relationships. This, along with the stories from sisters and friends of hookups that turn into relationships has led me to believe that chivalry is dead.
Thank fucking God.
I hate chivalry. I actively, passionately hate it. I was incredibly annoyed on that date as I sat there in silence letting this man, who I barely know, tell our waitress what I want. I had to keep myself from laughing when he showed up at my doorstep with that bouquet of roses (roses? On a first date? Really?).
It’s 2016, not 1926. Dating in college is supposed to be fun and experimental. I’m not looking for a suitor to take me down to the sock hop and share a chocolate milkshake with. I’m looking for someone who will be my date to formals, someone who can handle his liquor, and someone who lets me decide what to watch on Netflix. College dating is not serious. Sometimes it works out that way and you meet that one person who just gets you, and that’s wonderful. But if the guy you’re interested in shows up on your doorstep with a bottle and an invite to his date party instead of a bouquet of flowers, I think he’s a keeper.
Being a female is so hot right now. We’re fighting for equality, we’re speaking up about sexual assault, and we’re dominating the workforce. We are demanding more in every aspect of our lives, including dating. Being chivalrous isn’t going to cut it anymore. We want our guys to have ambition, a sense of humor, AND a rocking bod. We want it all, and if all you have to offer is nice manners, sorry not sorry, I’m going to look for something else.
If I like you, I should want to be myself around you. No pressure, no bullshitting. If you see me at my worst and you still want to hang out with me the next day, THAT’s chivalrous. How brave of you to risk alcohol poisoning by hanging out with me again. That’s the kind of guy I want to date.
We’re living in a day and age where we can finally date without pressure. No pressure of finding a husband (well, at least until we hit thirty), no pressure to be stuck with the first man who tries your milk but has a small penis (why buy the cow if you can find bigger and better milk in college?), and no pressure to even give it up in the first place. Guys are learning to respect women. We don’t need chivalry anymore — we have strong independent women, and that’s better.
I’m glad chivalry is dead. We’re better off without it. Men and women are both better people because of it. Men finally have to learn to woo us with their personalities instead of their gifts and manners and women get to finally have a personality.
Progress. Isn’t it wonderful? .
Nice Move808
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Cristina Montemayor
Cristina is a Grandex Writer and Content Manager. She was an intern for over two years before she graduated a semester early to write about college full time, which makes absolutely no sense. She regretfully considers herself a Carrie, but is first and foremost a Rory. She tends to draw strong reactions from people. They are occasionally positive. You can find her in a bar as you're bending down to tie your shoes, drinking Dos XX and drunk crying to Elton John. Email her: cristina@grandex.co (not .com).
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