I've been getting called "gentle" and "a gentleman" quite a bit recently. Me, of all people! The man who prides himself on taking women as lovers within a few hours of meeting them, and who hardly ever goes on second dates because he either sleeps with a girl on the first date, or burns the house down trying.
Yet I am, according to more and more women I meet these days, a gentleman.
I've had an interesting and at times soap opera-y progression of events over the past week in which my girlfriend has contacted an ex-girlfriend of mine, whom she'd never met or spoken to, in order to, at first, vent about me and seek her guidance, and now to be friends with her. My ex-girlfriend and I have since reconciled, and my current girlfriend and my ex-girlfriend have been comparing notes on me: the good and the bad.
I have a big belly (I'm skinny by American standards, but... I'm not in America anymore).
My face gets red very easily.
I'm troublesome and not simple. Just when they think they have me figured out... they realize they were wrong.
And, I'm a gentleman. I have gentle eyes. I'm a gentle person.
That last one is no accident, mind you. Being a gentleman is something I've long aspired to be. I'm a big believer that a man can be fast, powerful, and incredibly seductive – and yet, still manage to be dashing, enchanting, and considerate.
James Bond is a rogue and a knave, and he shoots bad guys and beds women – a LOT of women – with speed and expertise.
But he's still a gentleman. And if you aren't – well, I think you should aim to be, too.