Will opens my truck door and I feel momentarily upset—only because this five minutes with him has already been better than any date I’ve ever been on, and yet I’ll never get to have it again. And now on every date I go on I’ll hope they get the door for me—which they won’t, because half the women in the world hate it when a man gets their door and the other half love it, resulting in the man panicking and cannonballing into his side without ever asking what the woman actually prefers. I’ve never particularly cared either way, but now, after having Will do it for me, it’s decidedly in the like
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