Tonight we went to dinner at an apartment of boys who showed us this. The smell of chicken and steak fajitas filled the air as we waited for dinner to begin. Our offers to help with the last finishing touches were quickly declined, and we were told to sit and enjoy. Two tables changed their cinderblock living room into a formal dining room. Individual bottles of sparkling cider sat just above our plate waiting to be opened by the our dainty hands, and when we proved too weak they sacrificed their hands to open the slightly rough, "extremely hard to get off" cap. Conversations were had, jokes told, and time well spent. And when the time came for ward prayer, they ushered us out and invited us back after for fondu. We came back to find the dining room switched into a dessert bar, chocolate flowing from a fountain on the coffee table, surrounded by bowls of strawberries, pretzels, and bananas. Once again our efforts to be of any assistance was rejected. Even when we took matters into our own hands and started clearing dishes we were met with open hands and "may I take those"
We left feeling pampered. special. and very well taken care of. These boys didn't make us feel dumb, or stupid, or like we needed to impress them. They didn't make us cry, or fight for their attention. They showed us that not only is chivalry not dead, but it is alive and kicking.
P.S. The mother's of those boys should be very proud.