I pull out a chair.
She walks to the opposite one.
She doesn’t recognize a gentleman.
Maybe I’m not one.
I call her over, “This one is for you.”
She blushes. As do I.
I’m facing the entrance.
I can see if anyone hotter walks by.
Tradition to me
is treated untraditionally.
I hold the door
to catch a glimpse of her ass.
I buy her flowers
because I had to stop for gas.
As gentle as I am,
I am also a man,
confusing romance
with getting in her pants.
But leave the pants to me.
And wear a tight dress.
Drink to our similarities
while I drink to our differences.
Chivalry is dead.
And buried by every split check.
I’d like to buy love.
But I may not get to pay.