Dear Diary,

He opened the door and I looked up. The top floor of the restaurant was cleared, all except for one table set in the middle. Just for the two of us. Candles illuminated the room; rose petals scattered about, and light music faded into the background. I looked at him and gave him a breath taking hug and a kiss that nearly knocked him over. He had to fix his top hat. He looked over to me and said, “Do you like it?” I said, “Of course! I love it. This is perfect. It’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me.” He said, “I hope you know I would never do this for anyone but you. You are mine.” “Always?” “Always,” I repeated.
Anonymous
Annual Spring Ball
April 13, 1910



In the early 1900s, men were the most gentlemen like. They set limitations, opened doors for their ladies, and acted on romantic gestures that seem almost non-existent in this day and age. Men’s “standards” went up as time progressed. Advertisements with half naked women often, ironically, advertising men products, are, for lack of a better term, “raping” the media. It puts us women in bad situations. Now men expect us to look like double D Barbies all of the time, when, in reality, they’re in love with Photoshop, and not the person that God intended.

Of course, all women want to be treated like a princess, but unfortunately, that happens about 1 percent of the time. What happened to opening doors? What happened to beautiful instead of sexy? And more importantly, what happened to respect? Doing gestures like opening doors and creating the most romantic night of a woman’s life can make her fall in love with you faster than saying ignorant things like, “You know you want the D.” A girl should fall in love the right way.



Dear Diary,

We pulled up to the restaurant and I reached for the handle. He firmly said, “You better not get out.” He closed his door and I found a wide grin stretch across my face. He had always done this, but I loved the small gestures he still did from when we were young. He walked over to my side and opened the door. I stood up and gave him a kiss. It lingered. He kissed his way to my ear and whispered, “I have a surprise.”
Anonymous
Annual Summer Ball

June 8, 1916

Why do girls always complain, “Oh my gosh, all boys are jerks!” and when they get a gentleman that clearly cares about them, they walk away? It’s all about being cocky. Guys know when they have the looks. They know because girls throw themselves at them in anticipation to “find love.” Cocky guys don’t care about respect because they know that they can get what they want. They manipulate women and we fall for it. The poor guys that genuinely care for a girl are left to pick up the pieces. They try so hard to get girls to fall in love with them, but girls pass them right up. They “fall in love with” the cocky; Photoshop lovin’ bad boys who are apparently more “experienced and know what a girl likes.” You won’t find your man in a sea of. “Send me a “pic” of you,” or “I’ll break up with you if you don’t have sex with me.” No one knows you like yourself.

Now, I’m not saying the ugly guys are the gentlemen. I’m saying look out for the guys that want to treat you like a princess, because I guarantee you, they are right in front of you saying, “What am I? A cheese sandwich? I want to give you the world and you want to give this guy your V-card?” Want to ignore this? He won’t wait around forever.



Dear Diary,

We finally break away from each other and start to head for the restaurant. We walk into the front doors as he says, “Stay right here, and don’t move.” I stay put with a suspicious grin teasing the corners of my mouth. He walks over to the hostess and her face lights up. She’s excited for something. “Right this way.” We follow her up the stairs and she opens the door. “Enjoy the evening; let Sr. Charles know if you need anything.” Instant recognition hit me in the face. It was what he had done for me the night of the Annual Spring Ball back when we were just 17. A whimper left my mouth, “It’s just like when we were young.” I saw the table in the center of the room. It was one table, just for the two of us. He steps in front of me, hands around my waist. Anticipation glaring out of his eyes, “Well? Do you like it?” Tears streaming down my face ruin my makeup. I hug the life out of him and he hugs me back tighter. He grabs my face, kisses my forehead, finds his way to my lips and flutters them against mine. “Oh and one more thing, I just want you to know that I would never do this for anyone but you. I know that we have a restricted amount of time together and I wanted you to know that I love you with all of my heart and soul…” I didn’t realize what he was doing until I had to look down at him. He had gotten down on one knee.
Anonymous
Annual Summer Ball
June 8, 1916