There’s a strict code of conduct to being A True Southern Gentleman, and it extends further than simply letting your sweetheart run her mouth when she pops in to freshen everyone’s drinks during your weekly poker game in the shed out back. The female spirit is like a tiny, quivering bird, and the homestead is the nest she’s mussed together in which to nurture your progeny – what they’re indisputably built for. In that regard, a woman is a defenseless yet paradoxically industrious being that no man could attempt to fully understand lessen he bewilder himself into oblivion. But that don’t mean he has to treat her cruelly.
A True Southern Gentleman always removes his overcoat to cover any muddy puddles a lady may need to traverse across, and just because he bends over to steal a peek up her whatever-gals-choose-to-call-petticoats-these-days, that don’t tarnish the bona fide chivalry of saving a helpless woman’s off-brand shoe from potentially getting maybe just a wee bit smudged. It’s all about showing respect – namely for her shoes, because, lordy, you sure don’t want to hear her bellyache about her got-dang shoes the rest of the day. Showing shoe-respect can also be a ticket for a fast train to the tunnel between two hills, if’n you know what I mean (having relations and so forth).
A True Southern Gentleman knows how to assist womenfolk with the finances. Why, just the other day I saved my dearest Maribelle from herself by taking her credit cards away (all of which of course read Mrs. Vernon Dubuque). To be sure, that woman can shop to beat the devil, but her good qualities outweigh that predisposed setback, even when she insists I spend more on bourbon and ammo than she does on groceries. She keeps the house in order and watches over our three boys while I go off to do what we can all agree is “the real work” – overseeing important banker issues she couldn’t possibly understand with her beautifully delicate female brain. We like to say I tend the hedge funds and she trims the hedges for fun. Always gets a big laugh, and I laugh hard enough for the both of us. It’s cute the way she tries to whip up these spreadsheets in MasterSoft Accel to show me how we could be saving money in our monthly budget, but a woman doing math on a computer? That doubly ain’t what God intended. I just have to chuckle and pat her on the head. Weren’t no way she could make heads or tails of them figures being tabulated, like an old hound dog watching a stock ticker.
The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, they say, and A True Southern Gentleman knows the way to a woman’s heart is also through his stomach – namely, the joy she gets out of seeing how pleased he is with her cooking. When the fellas and I gather in my converted garage to watch the big game, I allow Maribelle to show off her delectable home cooking by offering us a selection of her finest culinary delights; I also allow her to show off a prime view of her delectable keister as I ain’t too proud to let her pick out the apron she wears. They just love thinking about which outfit they’ll wear next, and you should encourage them in that pursuit. You ought to see the proud grimace on her face when my buddies pretend to spank her bottom as she walks past with a tray of goodies. Food, folks, and fun; now what I ask you could make a True Southern Gentleman happier?
When it comes to education, A True Southern Gentleman understands that the children are most certainly our future, and my boys will grow up proud knowing their mother did all the raising and rearing without my involvement. I step out of the way and allow Maribelle to whip them into shape as she sees fit – another important issue women are better suited to handle. It’s hereditary; ain’t no use arguing over it. Even when Maribelle can’t get out of bed in the morning and holds a pillow over her head screaming some nonsense about not being able to live like this anymore and needing “time to herself” (whatever that means), I remind her of the pride she should feel for the duty of women spearheading the future in this way. I also remind her that she has to walk the boys on down to the bus stop because I don’t put on pants before 11 a.m. It’s just my nature.
A True Southern Gentleman will always remove his hat when a lady enters a room, partly to fan away the cloud of flatulence that’s perpetually malodoring his poker shed and partly to show what a full head of hair he still has. All women swoon over the prospect of running their dainty fingers through a successful man’s hair, as if having more of it is any testament to one’s virility or usefulness as a suitor. God love ‘em, women sure can be funny, but my point is they love to see your hair and it’s rude not comply with their incomprehensible desires. Maybe they’re daydreaming that you’re some sort of wild horse that can only be tamed by having its mane tugged on. Who knows. It’s sorta cute how women love horses so much. Almost humanizes ‘em. Horses, I mean.
Let’s see; shoes, cooking, hair, money, horses. Yeah, I think I about hit all the important things women most care about in this world, and if you show them you care, too, you’ll be on your way to becoming a A True Southern Gentleman in no time. Just remember that above all things respect is what it’s all about; respecting a woman’s place in society whether or not she agrees with you.
Well, the pasture’s a-callin’, and it’s time for me to mosey on down the trail. See y’all folks next time.