Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

Hmmm, maybe I should change the title to "Where Have All the Gentlemen Gone?" because that's really what I mean. But that's neither here nor there. I like my title and it's staying.

I realize I'm not the only woman who asks this question, but I had an experience today that gave me pause and I couldn't resist writing about it.

In my office we have a soda fountain, similar to one found in a gas station. It has about six varieties of soda, the most popular of which is the Diet Coke. I may have mentioned my addiction to this amazing beverage of life - and it's true. I'm totally addicted, but I'm trying to cut back to one a day. So, at about 2:00 this afternoon, I wandered into the break room to serve myself up my one delicious Diet Coke, and whattaya know . . . the machine is out.

This is fairly typical in my office. I seem to work with a giant group of helpless idiots. If there are no more cups on the counter, they will wander off, dejected, rather than reaching on top of the fridge to grab a new sleeve of paper cups. If the coffee is out, they will walk to the Starbucks two blocks away rather than make a new pot of coffee. You see what I'm getting at, right? Naturally, when the Diet Coke is out, people just wander away rather than doing the fairly difficult job of switching out the syrup (because the box of syrup weighs about thirty pounds).

But not me. Oh no not me. I need my Diet Coke.

Today, switching out the box was more complicated than usual because the Diet Coke was buried under the orange soda and the Dr. Pepper. And the space we have the boxes of syrup in is pretty tight so I had to move the other two boxes completely out of the space and into the middle of the floor in order to get the Diet Coke out. To add even more detail you probably don't care about, today I was wearing these boots:Needless to say, my balance wasn't quite what it normally is. As I was trying to grab the Diet Coke box by the flimsy cardboard handle, the handle broke and my feet slid out from under me and I fell flat on my back. Splat. Ow. Laughter.

Right about as I helped myself back up, wondering if our security cameras caught my moment of glory, two of our developers walked into the kitchen to get coffee. Now, lest you forget, I had two boxes of soda syrup spread out on the floor and another box I was trying to lift into the cupboard where we hook it up to the life giving veins of the soda fountain.

The two guys saw, and basically sat at watched me, in my pointy black heels and nice dress pants, struggling to lift the Diet Coke into the cupboard, then continued to watch as I attempted (in vain a couple of times almost causing the damage of the cute pointy toe of my right boot) to lift the other boxes back into their tight space. They just SAT and WATCHED. And it made me so mad!

Now, I am a pretty independent, tough kind of gal. I don't mind lifting boxes, I don't mind taking care of things like that myself. I grew up in a house without a father and until my brothers were bigger, Mom and I had to take care of a lot of that stuff ourselves. I can tile, operate a saw, a drill and other small power tools. I can do a lot of that stuff myself and I don't profess to "need a man" to help me with things like that.

BUT - it's really nice sometimes to have the help or at least the OFFER of help and there are jobs that I simply cannot do by myself. I lack the arm strength, despite my bulging biceps, and it seems less and less guys are being gentlemen in these types of situations.

I once worked for a man who once handed me a huge heavy box to take to his car and then walked in front of me all the way out to the parking lot talking on the phone, not even pausing to hold the doors open for me as I struggled to walk behind him.

Another man I worked for had me clean out a large room in his house and basically watched and directed me as I loaded heavy things into a truck then sent me off to the dump and storage units to unload the same stuff by myself.

I dated a guy for a very long time who had me do everything and would sit around watching. I did the cooking followed by the dishes. I would have to be with him when he went to the doctor and he'd have me fill out his paperwork for him.

Part of the problem is that I have a hard time asking for help and I'm a huge enabler . . . but I guarantee that if I really need the help, and someone offers, I won't say no. However, in some cases, I really shouldn't have to wait for an offer. There are situations where a manly man just needs to stop what he is or is not doing, or help.

Now, in contrast to the above, my husband is a great guy who always offers to do the "manlier" jobs himself, or to at least help me. I may not always take him up on that, but it's SO great to have the offer of help with heavy boxes, hard jobs, etc. My Father and brothers would rather die before letting my Mom, Stepmother, sister or myself pick up a heavy box or whatever job they consider "manly."

But, as you can see from my other examples above, in my life, guys like my husband, Dad and brothers, seem few and far between. Don't get me wrong, I know they still exist. One of them opened the door for me today coming out of a restaurant. Another picked up some papers that had fallen out of my briefcase. But overall, it feels like men have stopped being Gentlemen.

Trust me, I don't want to go back to the days where men walked on the road side to prevent the women from getting dirty but didn't allow the women to vote and I don't want to turn back time to the days when men were "true gentlemen" and a woman's "place" was in the kitchen (extreme examples, I know, but I hope you know what I'm getting at), but, I would really appreciate more men being more respectful. I would appreciate two strong men offering to help me lift thirty pound boxes rather than standing around staring. I would love to have more doors opened for me and not feel like I have to cause a hernia lifting heavy boxes or furniture. I like feeling girly!! I like pink and ruffles and roses and all of those girly things. But even if I didn't, myself and every other woman I know deserves a little more respect from the general man population.

I wish I had a solution. I know my son(s) will be raised to behave like his/their father. The men in my family will be gentlemen, but I obviously can't be the one to influence the world.

I just hope that my generation can help bring some of that chivalrous attitude back, because chaps and Wranglers or not, cowboys knew how to treat a lady.* Yipeeeai, Yipeeeay

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*For the record I am aware that not all cowboys were or even ARE gentlemen and some of them are/were disgusting. I'm purposely making generalizations here, mostly to tie my ridiculous title into the post. No judging. Thanks. Kisses.