Sometimes the line between sexism and chivalry is blurry

I had a flat tire by the time I got home from the YMCA yesterday, and this afternoon I was out loosening the lugnuts when a cop drove by. The boyfriend was keeping company and saw the cop before I did, and mentioned that he thought the cop was going to stop but didn't. And then a minute later as I was lining up the jack to the ridge under the car, the cop circled back around. "Do you guys need some help?" he asked. He had his seatbelt off and was getting ready to get out of the car before I could even answer.

"I think we've got it under control," boyfriend responded.

"Oh, okay," the cop said, a little surprised. "Just wanted to see if you needed help."

"It's okay," I said. "My dad taught me how to do this."

And then the cop laughed a little and said, "Okay then. When I drove by I was wondering what a lady was doing down there with a tire iron! Have a good day then."

"She actually taught me how to do this," boyfriend added.

The cop smiled and drove away, and boyfriend said, "Well that's a little sexist."

"Yeah it's sexist," I said. "It's sexist because the assumption is that you should have been doing it for me, and it's sexist to assume that I wouldn't know how to do it myself!"

Regardless, I still completely appreciate the offer, even if his southern manners came off as a little sexist. If I was a helpless flake of a woman, I might even have taken him up on the offer. And to give him credit, the boyfriend helped with the heavy lifting. That's the worst part about changing a tire: having to heft the dirty flat tire back into the car for repair.

Next adventure: seeing if the warranty I have for the tires will cover this replacement. I'm pretty sure this sucker is beyond repair. Come oooooooon, Tire Barn. Treat me right!

He probably has a drinking problem.

At the YMCA this afternoon, as I was dripping sweat all over the step mill and breathing unattractively heavily, a man walked into the gym and seemed to do a double take when he saw me. Holy crap that link suggests working on that machine at levels that I have never even attempted, let alone sustained for 15-20 minutes. The picture looks like the old girl that I like, but damn level 13 would murder me. Let's be honest: level ten is a rare and torturous mistress that I usually leave to her own affairs. The machine in the picture is probably a different brand of machine with easier levels! Yes!

So. The YMCA. I'm huffing and puffing and this guy looks at me like he knows me, and it takes me a second to place his face. To tell the truth, I'm not 100% sure that that guy was the guy in the forthcoming story, but I'm going to give it a solid 86% sure. He could just be a guy that comes into the winery where I work, but lets go with the gym story. I go to the gym, you guys!

I was sitting at the bar at a favorite local spot, minding my own business and my own beer while my boyfriend visited the little boy's room. Man from the gym apparently had not noticed that I had come with a man, ordered food and drink with him, laughed and flirted with him, and quietly waited for his return from the dunny while contemplating IBUs. Man from the gym approached me and said, "I hope this isn't too forward, but I just had to tell you that you are prettier than a field of daffodils. And I should know because I am a daffodil farmer!"

How did this strange man know that I am obsessed with daffodils?!? That I feel a shift in my personality in the spring when I see the first daffodils bloom? Oh psh, I know. This guy is, in my usually-inaccurate estimation, probably 55 years old. I cannot imagine a situation in which he thought he was hitting on me and not just paying me a lovely compliment. I blushed intensely, which is something I wish I could control in any way, thanked him for such a flattering compliment, and tried to disappear. My bright red cheeks would not allow it.

And then the boyfriend came back.

Man from the gym was probably ten feet away from us, standing with some friends since the bar was full. They seemed like regulars. As soon as the boyfriend came back, it wasn't three minutes before he was next to us, beginning to apologize to the boyfriend for the compliments he had paid me, worried that the boyfriend would find fault and get pissed off. There was no such animosity, of course, but I continued to blush whenever I made eye contact with him.

EDIT 1/14/2012: I went for three and a half minutes on level 10 today. WINDED. Different machine. Must be. Yes.