Chivalry isn’t dead…it’s just different
Lately, my favourite time of week is between the hours of 4:00am to 4:30am on a Sunday morning. This is the time I’ve officially finished work for the week and begin my slow, yet entertaining walk home. Last week after finishing a marathon of a shift, the last thing I felt like doing was walking the nine blocks back to my apartment, however I didn’t particularly feel like waiting in a cab line with shoeless girls and a projectile vomiting eighteen year old. Faced with the prospect of being stuck waiting with a pack of inebriated teenagers for the better part of an hour, I decided that walking was probably the better option. And I’m glad I did. It proved to be one of the more educational walks I’ve ever taken as it taught me that chivalry does in fact still exist, just in a very different form.
As I began to turn away from the bar and head past the park, I was greeted with an adorable group of gay men who proceeded to tell me that I was gorgeous. Now, this may not sound chivalrous, but being told you look somewhat decent, even at 4:00am when you smell like beer and have panda eyes – even when it’s coming from a group of men that most definitely aren’t trying to get into your pants – still counts as chivalry.
Continuing on my walk, I came across two very drunk French men. One was attempting to use his jacket as some sort of imaginary golf club and singing something that vaguely sounded like Lil Jon and the other had very kindly offered to walk me to the end of the street and hail me a taxi back to my apartment. Chivalrous? For sure.
I then was approached by a man, late thirties who stopped me and proceeded to tell me that he hated Brisbane and that the reason why he relocated was due to work.
‘What do you do?’ I asked
‘I’m a debt collector. I have to follow people around all night until I get the money back.’
‘Don’t you mean you’re a debt recovery agent?’ I asked a little confused
It was at this point that he explained to me that he was affiliated with a certain…group…and that his sole responsibility was to use his muscle to gain back any funds his group was owed. Although I had begun slowly walking away, he stopped me, told me to be careful walking home and if I had any problems to call him. He then took my phone out of my hand, put his phone number in under the name ‘Problems’ and then began to drunkenly rap “I love bad bitches that’s my fucking problem…” His parting words to me were, ‘Stay safe. Elbows are better than fists’. Chivalrous? In his own way, definitely.
As I replayed the events of my walk back in my head, I began to realise that chivalry is most certainly not dead, it’s just very different. Indeed the days of throwing a coat over a puddle are long gone, and maybe the days of opening a car door are slowly coming to an end – or maybe I’m completely wrong and have terrible expectations – but for now I’m willing to conclude that chivalry does exist. Even at 4:00am on a Sunday morning.