Aside from whether men should hold the door for women, few seemingly frivolous issues have fanned the flames of anti-feminism as much as who should pay for dates between men and women.
It’s a subject that seems to never die — see yesterday’s Guardian feature on “Paying while dating” — because there are always a subset of men who insist that it’s absolutely unfair that as the world has gotten closer to gender equality, men are still expected to pick up the check.
But what I mistook for a smile was actually a grimace. But then Anton hugged me, heat and sweat rising from his torso, his arms wrapped around me in a promise of eternal protection, inhaling me in that way men do to show they’re grateful that you’re safe.
And in that strange and romantic moment I thought, “One day I’m going to put this in a story to explain my convoluted relationship with Russian men.”I should preface this story by saying that I am Russian.
Then came the florid compliments, the praising of my dress, my body, which was so different from that of his soon-to-be-ex-wife, my appearing years younger than 37, 38, 39.
With Tom, the excitement is my opening the door to his slow smile.