8 Simple Rules For Dating My Daughter
Copyright 1998 W. Bruce Cameron
http://www.wbrucecameron.com/
Please do not remove the copyright from this essay.
When I was in high school I used to be terrified of my girlfriend's father, who I believe suspected me of wanting to place my hands on his
daughter's chest. He would open the door and immediately affect a good-naturedly murderous expression, holding out a handshake that, when
gripped, felt like it could squeeze carbon into diamonds.
Now, years later, it is my turn to be the dad. Remembering how unfairly persecuted I felt when I would pick up my dates, I do my best to make
my daughter's suitors feel even worse. My motto: wilt them in the living room and they'll stay wilted all night.
"So," I'll call out jovially. "I see you have your nose pierced. Is that because you're stupid, or did you merely want to APPEAR stupid?"
As a dad, I have some basic rules, which I have carved into two stone tablets that I have on display in my living room.
| Rule One: |
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a
package, because you're sure as heck not picking anything up. |
| Rule Two: |
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so
long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep
your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them. |
| Rule Three: |
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to
wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their
hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends
are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this
issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with
your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not
object. However, In order to assure that your clothes do not, in fact,
come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my
electric staple gun and fasten your trousers securely in place around
your waist. |
| Rule Four: |
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a
"barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it
comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I WILL kill you. |
| Rule Five: |
In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports,
politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only
information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to
have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need
from you on this subject is "early." |
| Rule Six: |
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to
date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my
daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will
continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you
make her cry, I will make YOU cry. |
| Rule Seven: |
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear,
and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to
be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is
putting on her makeup, a process which can take longer than painting
the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you
do something useful, like changing the oil in my car? |
| Rule Eight: |
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:
Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden
stool. Places lacking parents, policemen, or nuns. Places where there
is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or
happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to
induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or
anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka
zipped up to her chin. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme
are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey
games are okay. |
My daughter claims it embarrasses her to come downstairs and find me attempting to get her date to recite these eight simple rules from
memory. I'd be embarrassed too----there are only eight of them, for crying out loud! And, for the record, I did NOT suggest to one of these
cretins that I'd have these rules tattooed on his arm if he couldn't remember them. (I checked into it and the cost is prohibitive.) I merely told him
that I thought writing the rules on his arm with a ball point might be inadequate----ink washes off----and that my wood burning set was
probably a better alternative.
One time, when my wife caught me having one of my daughter's would-be suitors practice pulling into the driveway, get out of the car, and go up
to knock on the front door (he had violated rule number one, so I figured he needed to run through the drill a few dozen times) she asked me
why I was being so hard on the boy. "Don't you remember being that age?" she challenged.
Of course I remember. Why do you think I came up with the eight simple rules?
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Copyright W. Bruce Cameron 1998-2001
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