I held the door open for a middle-aged man who was behind me, expecting him to take the door from me, like a normal person would.
He walked right through it, not even LOOKING at me or making ANY attempt to take the door from me.
I was too annoyed to even give a sarcastic, "You're WELCOME!" I spent the next few hours rolling my eyes. What kind of a man expects a young woman to hold a door open for him and treats her like a common doorstop?
However, the Universe must have recognized how annoyed I was, because as I was leaving for my lunch break, I was in an elevator with a group of people who obviously all knew each other. When we got to the ground level, some people got-out...and then a young man with floppy brown hair gallantly (yes! GALLANTLY!) held-out his arm to show myself and another woman out of the elevator.
I smiled to myself and heard the other girl say, "What a SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN! Where are you from, again?"
The young man responded with, "N'Awlins!"
They raise nice young men in N'Awlins.
This guy is from N'Awlins, after all.
I couldn't resist turning around and saying, "And this morning, some guy let me hold a door open for him and didn't acknowledge me!"
The girl said, "You see? A true Southern gentleman."
Now, I couldn't help remembering that just a few weeks ago, after listening to Peter Cincotti's new single "Do or Die", I announced to the world (Facebook status readers) that this song about a guy trying to come-up with something to say to a girl in the elevator was inspiring me to spend all my free time riding elevators until I met a nice guy.
And what happens after I say that?
A true Southern Gentleman walks into my elevator.
(Of all the elevators in New York City...)
Today, as I was entering the building after my lunchbreak, I was behind a group of people with pizza.
And one young man with floppy brown hair.
He held the door open for me and I said, "You waved me out of the elevator yesterday, too!" (I couldn't help it! It slipped right out of my mouth! At least I didn't say, "You GALLANTLY waved me out of the elevator yesterday.")
He said, "Why, yes, I did" and I mentally "filed that one under 'oh my gosh, he talks just like Harry Connick.'"
The dorky hopeless romantic in me had very fleeting, "Maybe the entire reason I ended-up at this temp job was because I was supposed to meet this Southern Gentleman" and "the next time he holds the door open for you, SCAN HIS LEFT HAND FOR A RING!"
But the realistic part of me (which isn't too much of a percentage) gets that I'm probably not going to end-up with this guy, and I'll most likely never see him again (even though my friend Nick's parents DID randomly meet in an elevator.)
I do think, however, that there are no accidents in life and that gallant wave of a hand came at the perfect moment...there's some really good guys out there left in our age bracket...you just have to hope they walk into your elevator.