Ok, so what if my daughter is only two years old? These are the things the keep me up at night...(not whether or not Central Desktop (my company) will succeed, or whether or not I'm working too many hours, or whether to choose paper over plastic at the check out line), rather, I worry about how I'm going to deal with the realities of my daughter dating?
Thanks to Jack Yoest, I've got the solution.
Ten Simple Rules For Dating My Daughter
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure 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 idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this
issue, so I propose his 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 ensure that your clothes do not, in fact,
come off during the course of the date with my daughter, I will take my
electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your
waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without using 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:
It is usually understood that 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
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 it is okay with my
daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with one of my little
girls, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished
with you. You might have heard about her other two sisters, but you
will not look. If you make her cry, I 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 that 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 sofas, beds, or anything softer than a wooden
stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within
eyesight. 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
my old Army Field Jacket - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a
strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature
power tools are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a middle-aged, gray-headed,
dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the
all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are
going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the
whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and
a half acre behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to drift back a
few years to my Army days and mistake the sound of your car in the
driveway for a hostile vehicle. Whenever I hear engines at night, the
voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the weapons, probably as
I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the
driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight.
Announce the perimeter password, relay in a clear voice that you have
brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car -
there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the
window is mine.
My wife is pregnant with our second child (due in February) and we don't know the sex of the baby. With my luck, we'll have another daughter.