Yesterday, DH unlocked the door for me when we went out to the car. I was somewhat surprised. One of the things that kind of irked me when we were dating was that he didn’t open the car door for me. I would be standing outside a car to which I had no keys on a cold Michigan winter day, but my date did not open the car door and let me in. He would walk around to his side of the car, unlock the door, get in, and then lean over and unlock my door.
I never expected him to let me out of the car. He didn’t need to get out of the car, come around and open my door for me while I sat there. It may have been a cold Michigan winter day, but it was a car, not a horse-drawn buggy. I didn’t need him to help me step over piles of horse dung to keep my skirts clean while exiting. But his failure to let me in the car - to open the door for me - seemed like a courtesy malfunction.
And yet, despite this courtesy malfunction, I married him. Why? Here’s another memory about our dating days. One Friday evening, we met in Findlay, about halfway between Columbus and Detroit. We had a nice dinner. Afterwards, we walked out to the car and went for a drive and talked. Then we parked the car, and made out in the car for about three hours.
There are more important things than the customs of courtesy. We could talk to each other. He listened to me. And man, can that man kiss.
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