The English Gentleman is Dead

"A gentleman is any man who wouldn't hit a woman with his hat on."
~ Fred Allen

I promise you now, this is not one of those tragic extremist-feminist posts that defy the very principles of feminism which I will no doubt rant about at a later time, no, this post is merely a discussion of something I have had a point of view on for a while but never thought to express such.

As the title may suggest, I want to discuss the idea of 'The English Gentleman'. What springs to mind? A man in a top hat, opening the door of a hansom cab so that a woman wearing too many layers of frilly lace can step onto a dirt track in the middle of London, smiling bashfully before taking the man's arm, as if it were a life-protecting necessity.

This is an idyllic and picturesque image, but it is one that belongs in an Austen novel, not in the real world. Some people will question 'where everything went wrong'. When did men stop being gentlemen and start being bastards?
This unanswerable question actually has a very succinct answer; it was about the same time that women started being complete bitches to the standing order of society.

Why don't men tip their hats to me in the street or rush ahead to gold the door for me?
Well, because they have a little more respect. They recognise that I am quite capable of working a door handle all by myself. The exception is, of course, if I'm carrying something heavy, then you'd better open the door or else you're going to end up looking like a bit of a shit.

Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that the ideal was and is flawed, because the intentions were never genuine. Of course, I'm talking generally, there were no doubt individuals who had real respect for women, but most men who were considered gentlemen of the nineteenth century didn't believe women should have the vote, didn't believe they had the same rights to work or earn a living or live on their own or lead any kind of life that women of today are accustomed to.

So, basically, to those girls who harbour sad regrets in their heart that they're unlikely ever to be whisked away by Mister Darcy I say this; grow a proverbial pair.
The fantasy of the gentlemen isn't dead, it never existed, but what we have now is a right side more respectable, if not as well-dressed. Be thankful that society has moved on to a moment in time when you're not patronised on every street corner by a man in a dusty bowler with a ludicrous moustache, enjoy the freedom to wear what you like, even when I, personally, think you look hideous and maybe, just once, you should run ahead and hold the door open for the elderly man in front of you, provided the intention is as sincere as the action itself.