of chivalry and feminism

i am a self-confessed romantic
who is in love with chivalry and the perfect lazy Sunday afternoon and the perfect whirlwind Friday city night tour complete with dazzling haute cuisine.

and

i am a self-indulgent realist
who is intoxicated with the sense of independence and the picture of equality between the sexes, essentially, the portrait of feminism.


so begs the question:
when the dinner tab comes, do I go dutch at it or
do I let my date pick it up?

i do love a sense of being pampered and that I am worth the trouble and effort.
after all, it comes with the territory of female-ness.


but my sufffragette predecessors have not come all this way and marched for the voting rights of women for nothing. we work our arses off to be acknowledged by the world, and mainly our male counterparts. and i do hold on to that. i do want to be the epitome of female courage and wit and talent.

but sometimes, it's just good for the soul, nay, the female soul to let the male be the one in the driver's seat,
to swoon over flowers and gifts,
to let the male smile across the table and decide on your main meal,
to let him smile again at the end of the meal and say, 'Let me.',
to have him demand protectively that you let him escort you to the rock concert,
to open doors and pull out chairs for you,
to let him buy little trinkets for you occasionally,
to let him pamper you with surprises.


after all, we are worth the trouble, efforts, thoughts, moolah because we know it, we are equal counterparts.