10 “old-fashioned” gentleman behaviors women secretly miss

The other night at dinner, my date stood when I returned from the restroom. The gesture was so unexpected that I actually looked behind me, thinking someone important had walked in. When I realized he’d stood for me—just me, returning from washing my hands—something shifted. Not because I needed the validation or couldn’t pull out my own chair, but because in that small moment, someone had decided I was worth the effort of a forgotten courtesy.

We’ve spent the last few decades rightfully dismantling the parts of chivalry that were really just benevolent sexism in a nice suit. Nobody misses being treated like a fragile flower who can’t open her own doors or pay for her own drinks. But in our rush to throw out the patronizing bathwater, we might have tossed something else too—the simple pleasure of being on the receiving end of deliberate thoughtfulness.

The truth is, many women find themselves quietly appreciating certain traditional gestures, not because we’re secretly longing for the 1950s, but because genuine consideration for others has become increasingly rare. These aren’t about gender roles or capability; they’re about the radical act of putting your phone down long enough to notice another human being exists.

1. Standing when she arrives at or leaves the table

Last month at a business dinner, I watched a seventy-something executive stand every time a colleague returned to our table. The younger guys looked bewildered, like he was performing some arcane ritual. But his dinner companion? She smiled every single time.

It’s not about hierarchy or helplessness—it’s a physical acknowledgment that your presence changes the room. In our attention-fractured culture, we half-look up from our phones, maybe wave while still scrolling. The standing gesture forces something different: a full stop, a transition that marks arrival as an event worth interrupting yourself for.

2. Walking on the street side of the sidewalk

Originally meant to protect women from splashing carriages and chamber pots thrown from windows (delightful times), this gesture has evolved into something else entirely. It’s less about protection now and more about awareness—noticing which side has the puddles, the construction, the guy on the electric scooter who thinks sidewalks are his personal highway.

It signals something increasingly rare: environmental awareness that extends beyond yourself. Someone who notices which side of the sidewalk is more pleasant is probably someone who notices other things too—when you’re cold, when you’re uncomfortable, when the conversation has shifted in a direction that excludes you.

3. Offering his jacket without being asked

October, outdoor concert, and I’d optimistically worn a sundress. My date noticed me crossing my arms before I’d even registered being cold. Without a word, his jacket was around my shoulders. Not a big production, no “Are you cold?” Just the jacket, warm from him, appearing like magic.

We’re all capable of checking weather apps, bringing our own layers. But there’s something about someone reading your body language and immediately moving to help that cuts through our age of emotional unavailability. It’s preventative care—fixing problems before they’re problems, the opposite of waiting to be asked for help that we’ve all gotten too good at.

4. Sending flowers (actually to her, not just posting them)

Flower delivery has become almost aggressively public. We post the bouquet on Instagram, tag the sender, watch the likes roll in. But there’s something different about flowers that arrive at your office on a random Tuesday, no special occasion, no social media documentation required. Just flowers, because someone was thinking of you and wanted you to know it in a way that doesn’t require public validation.

The surprise element matters more than the flowers themselves. It’s the disruption of routine, the evidence that someone is thinking about you when you’re not there, planning small happinesses for you while you’re busy living your life.

5. Making reservations and having a plan

“What do you want to do?” “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

This circular hell has killed more potential relationships than incompatible star signs. Every date becomes a committee meeting where no one wants to take charge.

Having a plan doesn’t mean being controlling. One friend’s boyfriend texts her every Thursday: “Saturday night, that new Thai place at 7:30, or would you prefer Italian at 8?” Options, but not endless options. Decision, but not dictation. He’s done the mental labor of checking reviews, seeing what’s open, making actual reservations. She just has to show up and enjoy.

6. Handwritten notes over constant texting

We text everything now—grocery lists, love declarations, breakups. The immediacy is convenient but also cheapening. A handwritten note requires planning, effort, the physical act of putting pen to paper. You can’t take it back with an “unsend.” You can’t edit it after the fact. It exists, tangibly, saying someone cared enough to make something permanent.

The handwritten note also does something texts can’t: it slows down time. In our world of instant everything, the note that took five minutes to write and two days to arrive feels almost rebellious. It’s inefficient on purpose, valuing connection over convenience.

7. Introducing her properly to others

At a gallery opening last month, I watched a man introduce his girlfriend to everyone they met. Not just her name—her context, her interests, a conversation starter built right in. “This is Maya, she’s actually working on a documentary about urban beekeeping.” Suddenly, she wasn’t just a plus-one; she was the most interesting person in the room.

Compare that to the usual “This is Sarah” followed by awkward silence while everyone tries to figure out the connection. The thoughtful introduction shows two things: he actually listens when you talk about your life, and he’s actively creating space for you to be seen as yourself, not just as his companion. It’s social generosity in action.

8. Following up on conversations from weeks ago

“How did your presentation go?” when you mentioned it once, three weeks ago. “Did your sister end up taking that job?” when you barely remember telling him about it. This kind of active listening has become so rare that it feels almost intimate when it happens.

We’re all performing our lives in real-time now, used to people who half-listen while crafting their own responses. Someone who remembers the small things, who follows the threads of your stories over time, offers something algorithms can’t replicate: the feeling of being truly known.

9. Calling instead of only texting

My friend’s husband calls her every day at lunch. Not to check up, not with an agenda—just to hear her voice for five minutes between meetings. “How’s your day actually going?” with all the tone and texture that texts strip away.

Phone calls have become weirdly formal, requiring advance notice and calendar coordination. But spontaneous calls say something texts can’t: I wanted to hear your laugh, not just see “haha.” I wanted the pause when you’re thinking, the way your voice changes when you’re excited. In our curated world of edited messages and filtered photos, the phone call remains stubbornly, beautifully unedited.

10. Taking the lead in planning milestone moments

Not controlling, not deciding everything unilaterally, but taking responsibility for making special occasions actually special. The surprise weekend trip that accounts for your work schedule. The birthday dinner that includes your friends, not just his. The anniversary that reflects shared memories, not just calendar obligations.

This kind of planning requires paying attention over time, filing away preferences and wishes, then creating experiences that feel both surprising and inevitable. It’s the opposite of asking “What do you want for your birthday?” the night before.

Final thoughts

These gestures aren’t about returning to some imagined golden age when men were men and women were grateful. They’re about something simpler and more radical: sustained attention in an economy designed to fracture it.

The woman who appreciates when someone stands as she approaches the table isn’t weak. She’s someone who recognizes rarity when she sees it—the rarity of someone who treats moments as moments, not multitasking opportunities. The same goes for handwritten notes in a world of voice texts, or planned dates in a culture of “let’s play it by ear.”

What we’re really missing isn’t chivalry—it’s intention. The decision to be inefficient on purpose, to choose the harder thing because it means more. Anyone can offer these gestures, anyone can appreciate them. They’re not about gender; they’re about the revolutionary act of showing someone they’re worth the effort in a world constantly telling us to optimize that effort away.

Maybe admitting we miss these things isn’t nostalgic. Maybe it’s the most modern thing we can do: insisting on human connection that can’t be automated, abbreviated, or accomplished while doing something else.