AGES ago, in a timeline far from today, there lived a young girl from a small town in Alaska. She graduated from HS and went off to school in a big city. While in college, she learned about guys opening doors for girls and was hooked. Now, to be fair, she did know of some males in her home state who were kind enough to do this for their mother or aunt or at church, but this particular story was an anomaly. And more amusing because of it.
After an entire semester of this incredible thing about guys pulling open the doors for her briefcase carrying, high heeled self, the girl came home for Christmas. And went on a date.
The date was with a very well behaved (and well trained) young man a couple of years older than our heroine. They were headed to a popular pizza/Italian spot in town (that, incidentally STILL exists today) and it was cold and icy. As she bounced along giggling and talking, she reached the door. Our lass was first and made as if to open it, but then remembered all those other men who insisted on doing this onerous chore for her. Quickly, she stepped back to allow her Alaskan Knight to do the deed in their stead.
He looked at her with his deep brown eyes and asked very gallantly, "Is it stuck?" As he pulled it open with great force (that it didn't need one bit), the odd look on his face reminded her how different guys were and made her very thankful for the taste of chivalry she had gotten in the states.
To this day, I love having a guy or even a gal, open a door for me. But, especially a guy, because it reminds me of t his story. It is a common courtesy I see falling away in the world of feminism.