Boys of the South

Chivalry is not dead, at least not south of the Mason Dixon Line. After having recently moved to southern Georgia, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the notion of a southern gentlemen is not a farce—far from it.

With a tip of their cap they open the door for you, offer to help you up the stairs with your groceries, and encourage you to go ahead of them in line at the store. They offer you a polite smile as they pass and even walk in the middle of the road to stop traffic so you can cross the street (I’m not kidding, this actually happened to me). They ask you how you are then wish you a good day, all with that adorably charming, back-woods southern drawl strong enough to make your knees weak and your mouth water. 

The guys down here drop their girlfriends off right in front of class (in pick-up trucks, obviously) then pick them up when it’s over. They carry shopping bags for their girlfriends, no matter how heavy or how light, and loyally tag along on those notoriously boring and menial feminine errands (you know the kind—the salon, Victoria’s Secret, and the feminine product aisle at Walmart). They call their girlfriends pet names like “sugar” and “darling,’” all while sporting their uniform of pleated khaki shorts, a tucked in polo shirt, and penny loafers with no socks. 

They drink a lot of beer and watch a lot of football (god, do they love their football), but their first priority is always the women in their life. They were raised by strong southern mammas whose cooking rivaled Paula Deen and whose temper rivaled John McEnroe. Their mommas take care of them and they take care of their mammas, and without a doubt they’ll take care of you too, because that’s just how they were raised. 

Ladies, these southern boys, they’re the ones you marry. They’re the ones that you are proud to introduce to your mother and not intimidated to introduce to your father. They’re the ones who will be at your beck and call beyond your newlywed years. They’ll dote on your daughter and teach your son how to fish and root for the University of Georgia football team. My experience in the short time I’ve been here has given me hope that “good ol’” boys do indeed exist, and that it is possible to meet someone who will treat me how I ought to be treated—like a princess, of course.