A Requirement of Respect

I never have any time, yet somehow I’m always waiting. I am a slave to the clock because time gets away from me easily and being late causes me great stress and anxiety. It is for this reason that I find myself too early for an appointment and make a quick detour into the half-empty parking lot attached to a popular walking trailhead.

I can hear them before I see them. Two women are walking with dogs,  leashes attached to their wrists and a handsome, silver-haired man trails a half step behind them. He is detailing the ins and outs of how his contracting company works. He’s talking about bridges but I know he’s a contractor because of the truck he unlocks as they start to finish up the conversation.

The ladies hug and exchange “I love you’s” and “have a good day” gets said in triplicate. One turns with her dog and gets into the car beside me, a nondescript white Tesla.

I turn my attention to the couple and the dog that accompanies them. They are likely in their mid forties, though it is getting harder for me to tell age as my own increases. I can’t glean from the dynamic I’ve observed just how involved they are. They may be newly coupled, though I find myself wondering when “new” ends. They could cohabitate, but they might each have their own place to call home.

The particulars probably don’t matter all that much.

He walks directly to the passenger’s side door and opens it. He then opens the back door and lifts the little dog onto the seat. After closing the door (for the dog), he helps the woman with her coat, waits for her to be situated and then shuts her door as well.

My brain fires off very quickly and it isn’t always possible to keep everything in order. What I do know was that it was astounding to sit and watch this dance occur without any hiccups or prior conversation.

He walked to that door without thought or hesitation and she knew to wait for him to do it.

I thought about times where I had opened doors for myself and missed the cue to let someone have the chance to fill that role. I thought about moments where men in my life had taken offense to my reaching for a door. I thought about those who hadn’t.

I thought about the act, but also the idea of chivalry in itself. What is it there for? Why does it exist?

What is baseline respect between a man and a woman? In a time of feminism and equality, is respect in the form of chivalry still important?

Is it dumb for me, someone who swings for equity, to be asking a man to hold up some kind of pageantry around doors when I am entirely capable of opening them myself?

I feel like that’s a matter of opinion, but nothing is black and white.

To be honest, it seems that it’s more important to me, personally, now than ever.

I thought about the number of times in my life where, if I had waited for doors to be opened for me I’d be standing in a doorway to this day.

I’ve never picked up the steps to this dance, you see. Mainly because I never had anyone teach me.

I was reflecting the other day on turning a corner around being alone vs being lonely. I came to the conclusion that, even though I don’t really love spending so many days and nights on my own it is helping me to understand the difference between clinging to someone out of fear and wanting to be with someone who is fun to be around and also soothes my nervous system. I feel like I’m starting to intuitively understand that not everyone is a good place to put my energy. In talking to someone I noted that I was becoming “self-sufficient”.

But my trusted confidant and advisor simply stated, “you have always been self-sufficient, always.”

I remember my psychologist saying that I would do well to create a list of requirements for a relationship for myself. He asked if I had ever done anything to that effect and I said that I had never felt like I was in a position to have preferences.

He stopped me.

“Not preferences,” he specified, “Demands. Dealbreakers. Things that, if not met, you’d rather be alone.”

The idea echoed in my head for a split second while I conjured every sad and lonely spinster stereotype I could. I straight up yelled the word, “alone!”

“does that come with a starter pack of cats or do I have to go find those on my own?”

I understand that the lack of understanding I have around this isn’t my fault. I know now that this baseline respect a man can hold for a woman, should he so choose, is something that finds its way into just about every facet of how they interact. I also understand this wasn’t something that was modeled for me. It’s not something I thought was missing and actually, has been hard for me to receive.

It isn’t my fault that I’m in my forties and only now beginning to notice this. It isn’t my fault that I never noticed the absence of it in my own life.

Still, there are moments where these things are difficult for me to swallow.

I guess my inability to imagine a list of demands at that moment in therapy was a part of the process, but one that was short-lived. Just a stop on the road to conceptualizing a better life. Today, the first requirement I’ve determined is this one:

I want to be with someone who sees the virtue of this belief and behaviour of his own accord, not because I call him out or decide to demand it. I want to be loved by a man who sees caring for others as a role he’s proud to hold, never asking, “why should I?”

It is in knowing how little I knew that I’m learning I want to know more. I want to learn the steps to the dance. I want to know instinctively that when I pause, the door will be opened. 

I want to be with someone who holds that baseline of respect. Not just for me, but for all creatures, great and small.