The protector

I was at a large air show with a female friend when the crowd started getting rough. She was getting jostled around and pretty upset about it. "Let me move in closer," I said, stepping into her space. I added my air of "don't mess with me"—I'm 6ft, 250 pounds—and suddenly the crowds started parting for us. She was both annoyed that I could do that and grateful at the same time. That's what men are supposed to do. We're protectors.

A few years later, I found myself in the capital with her and three other women. Busy, crowded weekday—and the women were all getting stressed. (None of us are city people.)

My friend pipes up "Just walk behind him, let him clear the way." And they did. I still chuckle thinking about how it must have looked—me walking down the street with four women in single file behind me. But that's our role as men. The protector. It's not about sex or anything like that. It's about who and what we are. This is still a thing in modern times.