At least I think they do, and it's my blog, so if you're coming at this from a different angle you're going to have to wait till the comments at the bottom. Don't go down there now, I haven't finished yet, I've barely started, come back and listen. Right then.
One of the things I love about my other half is not just his fabulous Kate Winslet impression (another story, another time), but his manners. He's one of the most courteous men you could ever wish to meet. He'll hold a door open for you, of course, but he'll also lean very slightly in front of you to push the door open for you as well. He'll always let you go first, and if at all possible he'll walk on the outside of the pavement. He'll carry shopping bags with barely a murmur, he'll pay when we go out for a meal unless I really, really fight, and he'll probably give away his last Rolo (actually I'm not too sure about the Rolo, he does love his chocolate, but you get my gist).
I think a lot of it might have to do with golf. He loves his golf, does my other half. Loves playing, loves watching. Probably dreams about it. I don't really understand golf, I don't play, but I try very hard to learn. At a push I could probably tell you the difference between a Texas Scramble and a greensome (if that's the right word) but I'd have to spend a long time thinking about it and probably need clues. But I'll never get the etiquette behind it. I don't really get why women have only recently been allowed in some clubhouses, and not at all in others, I don't understand why you can't wear jeans in there either, and I really can't get to grips with the need for pink trousers. The other half though talks about the etiquette behind golf, the manners, and the integrity and would never trust a man who cheated at golf. I think this sort of background has stood him in good stead, but is he in fact a bit of an anachronism?
On the bus the other day, the other half had stopped in the aisle to let a young woman get up and go in front of him to get off. As we both got off together, I mentioned to him how the girl must think he was a real sweetheart, and how kind he was. But he remarked that she probably thought he was just some old tosser who was holding up everyone else on the bus. I've tried to bring up my son with good manners, and hope that's still a useful attribute to have. He'll say please and thank you with the best of them, although he's not quite cracked the whole holding the door open business yet. He's also not quite got wat to say when someone thanks him for doing something. When you catch him on a good day, he'll do something wonderful, and you'll thank him, and he'll give you the most gorgeous smile and instead of saying "It's my pleasure" or "You're welcome" he'll say "Your pleasure".
And do you know what? He's absolutely right.