The first time I went to my future husband's house for Sunday dinner back in the late 1960's, all the women were in the kitchen and all the men were milling around outside visiting. When it came time for dinner, all the men sat at the table and "their women" stood behind them, dishing up their food, buttering their bread, salting, cutting their meat, etc. I sat down at a place at the table (I was a 17-year old girl, mind you), and all the men just about choked on their fried chicken! My future MIL, wide-eyed, asked me "aren't you going to help 'boyfriend' with his food?" My response - in front of all my future in-laws *gasp* "I helped cook it and put it on the table in front of him. If he's too lazy to dish it up for himself, he deserves to starve." I've been married to him for 41 years, never cut up his meat for him once.