At over 40, I’ve reached a place of calm clarity. A place where I no longer bend over backward to be understood or to be chosen. I no longer lose sleep over unanswered texts or second-guess myself after a date that felt more like a performance than a conversation. I’ve lived long enough to learn that the energy you invest in someone should never be more than the energy they’re willing to return.
And with that perspective comes the familiar question: Is chivalry dead?
It’s a question I’ve heard tossed around in different ways by girlfriends, colleagues, and even in passing conversations with strangers. It usually comes with a heavy sigh, a shrug, or a story that starts with, “So I went on this date…” The sentiment is always the same. Something’s missing. Something that once felt foundational has become rare.
But the truth is, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just quieter. It’s grown more subtle and, in some cases, more confusing. The romantic gestures we once associated with courtship like holding a door, walking us to the car, calling instead of texting, have been replaced with emojis, last-minute plans, and the idea that effort somehow equals weakness. And yet, many of us still long for the softness of being considered. We crave the kind of attention that isn’t loud or showy but is sincere.
When I think about chivalry today, I don’t think of old-fashioned rules or gender roles. I think about presence. I think about care. I think about effort that isn’t performative but natural. For me, chivalry is showing up when you say you will. It’s following through on what you promise. It’s the little things that often say more than grand gestures ever could.
In my twenties, I equated romance with drama. If it didn’t come with butterflies or uncertainty, I assumed it wasn’t real. Back then, I thought the thrill of not knowing what someone would do next was excitement. I thought unpredictability meant passion. What I’ve learned is that those feelings often mask inconsistency. They are not the hallmarks of love; they are symptoms of emotional confusion.
In my forties, I’ve learned to value peace. Consistency is attractive. Accountability is attractive. A man who listens, who makes space for me in his life, who doesn’t need to be reminded how to be kind—that is what chivalry looks like now. It’s not a performance. It’s a presence.
I’ve also come to understand that many men feel unsure of what chivalry even means anymore. Especially at a time where women are rightfully asserting independence, some men hesitate, afraid that kindness will be misinterpreted or unwanted. I understand that. We’re all trying to navigate a new social dynamic where the rules aren’t as clear. But the truth is, thoughtful actions are never outdated. Being considerate never goes out of style.
Chivalry is not about assuming I can’t do something for myself. It’s about choosing to do something because you care. Opening a door is a kind gesture, not a commentary on my capability. Offering to walk me to my car isn’t patronizing—it’s protective in a way that feels thoughtful. The key is in the delivery. The why behind the what. Is it being done out of respect, or obligation? Is it about control, or connection?
The world has changed, and with it, so have our expectations. We no longer look for perfection. We look for real. I don’t expect someone to read my mind or sweep me off my feet. I expect communication, honesty, and a willingness to grow. I expect someone who understands that intimacy is built slowly, through trust and shared experience.
For many women over 40, dating comes with a unique set of challenges. We are no longer dating with the pressure of timelines or expectations around starting a family. We’re dating for partnership, for companionship, for a connection that adds value to our already full lives. We are not looking to be rescued or completed. We are looking to be respected and met as equals.
This makes modern chivalry even more important. It’s no longer about proving strength or dominance. It’s about showing empathy, emotional intelligence, and the maturity to value a connection for what it is—not for what it looks like on the surface.
I’ve been on dates where the conversation flowed effortlessly, but the follow-up was nonexistent. I’ve met men who say all the right things, only to disappear the moment vulnerability enters the chat. What I’ve come to appreciate are the small things that most wouldn’t notice. The man who asks about my day and actually listens. The one who remembers what I said last week because he was present, not distracted. The one who values depth over drama.
Chivalry today is emotional. It’s not flowers and chocolates, it’s consistency and care. It’s showing up with integrity and treating the people around you with dignity. It’s being self-aware, emotionally honest, and willing to communicate with intention. It’s not something that can be faked or rehearsed. It’s who someone chooses to be, over and over again.
We also can’t ignore the role technology plays in this shift. Online dating has made access to people easier, but connection harder. Conversations are shorter, attention spans are thinner, and the illusion of endless options has made people less likely to invest. Chivalry, in this landscape, is even more radical. It’s the person who still calls instead of only texting. The one who shows up when it would be easier to cancel. The one who chooses depth in a world that often encourages detachment.
I don’t think chivalry is something we need to bring back. I think we need to recognize where it still exists, even if it looks different now. It’s the man who values kindness without expecting credit. The one who holds space for your voice, your opinions, your presence. The one who doesn’t try to impress with flash but chooses to be consistent with substance.
And yes, I still notice style. Not in the sense of fashion trends, but in how a man carries himself. How he presents to the world. Is there effort? Pride in his appearance? A sense of self-worth that’s evident, not arrogant? These are all subtle forms of chivalry too. They tell me he values himself—and by extension, will likely value me.
At this stage in life, I know what I want. I know what I can offer. And I know that I would rather be single with peace than partnered with chaos. I’ve done the emotional heavy lifting. I’ve navigated the false starts and dead ends. What I desire now is alignment, not entertainment.
So no, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just harder to recognize in a world that moves quickly and often rewards convenience over connection. But for those of us who still believe in the power of presence, who still value genuine care, who still find beauty in the quiet acts of thoughtfulness, it is very much alive.
It may not look like it used to, and that’s okay. We’ve evolved, and so has it. What matters now is not whether someone opens the door for you. What matters is whether they show up, stay open, and treat you like you matter—not just in moments that are easy, but especially in the ones that aren’t.
That’s the kind of chivalry I believe in. The kind that grows with you. The kind that meets you where you are, as you are. And if it takes time to find, so be it. At this point in life, I’m not in a rush.
I know what I bring to the table—and I’m perfectly fine eating alone until someone arrives who respects the meal, the seat, and the woman sitting in it.
