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My name is Collin. Collin Andrew Sherriff. And although that may be a little reminiscent of the classic James Bond line, I could not be further from the character himself. Well I could. I mean I do have a face, and hands, and legs, and other matching body parts – but I am trying to say I am no action hero, or suave lady -killer. Or bad-guy killer. Actually I do not even kill flies, I am pathetic… or nice, depending on your outlook. But, what makes a man, a gentleman? Is there a definite definition… should there be? I don’t know really. After all, I rarely refer to myself as a gentleman - in fact I don’t think of myself as one. That, err… yeah, that came out wrong. I just mean that I am not too comfortable with referring to myself in that way – mainly because I think of a gentleman as a finished article, and in no way am I there yet. A gentleman is a grown up. He has confidence in himself - and his moustache. A gentleman is fearless, and can drink whiskey without being sick in the nearby toilet - A man. Just kidding, don’t drink to be a pretentious gentleman. The truth is the modern gentleman is not limited to the same stereotypical ideas of a few decades ago, so the definition of a gentleman is a lot more relaxed these days, thankfully. Not to say that I have not always longed to slap someone with a glove, thus challenging them to a duel… but yeah, those days are long gone. One of my friends recently told me a story – he was walking down the 500-corridor and opened our Afrikaans classroom door; As he was going through two ladies approached and he held the door open for them - rather than pushing through, or shoving past them. Pretty normal. I would like to think I have been brought up well - as well as my friend. My dad used to always say “manners maketh man” when teaching me little life -lessons.
- by Collin Andrew Sherriff
What one of the two girls did next was somewhat bizarre. She refused to go through the door – instead, she left my ‘gentleman-of-a-friend’ standing there like an idiot holding the door open for no one. Apparently she then exclaimed, “You know I can actually open a door myself. I don’t need someone to do it for me!” and stood in front of the door holding back her friend at the same time. Naturally my friend was confused and somewhat shocked - stunned in fact. I would have reacted in the same way; his whole world had just come crashing down. After all he was sure, up until that specific moment, that no woman could open a door herself, because how can any woman manage to work out the intricate and detailed push/pull mechanism of those tricky things. Instead all they can do is wait, like damsels in distress (literally), hoping, wishing, praying for a knight in shining armour to come and free them.