The men here are a different breed
There are no metrosexuals here. No lumbersexuals. No hipsters, futurists, or any other insane fashion trend popping off on magazine covers. Men have calloused hands, camouflaged sheets, and gun racks in their living rooms. It's not strange to see blood in the bed of the truck; or tackle boxes in the backseat. You'll have to press him to take his ballcap off for dinner; to wash his hands before… well, anything; remind him for the thousandth time to clean the dip out of that cup in his center console.
These guys can build things, fix anything, and survive for more than three hours in the wild. They also provide in ways I, for one, had never been provided for.
They hold car doors even though the vehicle isn't fancy; pay for dinner even if they don't have a lot of money; and give you their gloves even if it's -30 out (yes, it gets that cold here). The first couple of times any of the aforementioned things happened, I was stunned. Now, going out with guys in other, busier parts of the world where chivalry is lacking, is strange.