Thursday, October 25, 2012

Rules For Dating My Daughter - Mamma Style

Over the years I have read plenty of jokes of the insane things parents plot and plan when adjusting to the fact that their daughters are starting to date boys. But now as I face the reality that this phase of my parenting life is approaching,  all of a sudden, they don’t seem all that crazy.  I think that any potential suitor will receive a letter from me with a very detailed explanation of my expectations.  Clear communication is essential to any relationship and any dude better realize quickly that being in a relationship with my daughter means I am part of the package. 

Dear pond scum,  (What?  To much?)

I have come to understand that my daughter would like to spend some time with you this weekend, on what has been traditionally termed a “date.”  I consider this event and your presence in my life both inevitable and unfortunate…much like taxes… and plaque. 

My daughter is one of the most precious individuals on earth to me.  You, I am afraid, are my worst nightmare.  I have dreaded your presence in my life since the moment the sonogram technician said “it’s a girl.”  Before your name was ever uttered in my home I was cursing your existence.   You may be a varsity athlete, national merit scholar, and saved an orphanage full of babies from a fire…I am not impressed...what else ya got?  

My daughter accepting your invitation is a good sign, but not a guarantee you are actually going to make it out my front door with her.  In fact, how you exit my home, with whom, and in what condition are completely up in the air once you enter.  There are so many possible scenarios …know that I am rooting for  you to leave my house either voluntary alone or in some type of emergency services vehicle.  On that note, please make sure to carry your health insurance and donor cards with you.  If you would like, I would happy to keep copies of each on file for the future. 

Please plan on appropriate attire.  The very word “underware” has “under” in it – and to this I apply a very simple definition “under your clothing and completely out of sight.”   I have no interest in knowing if you are briefs or boxers type of guy.  If I have any inkling at all, you will have two choices:   retreat voluntary (highly, highly recommend) or we can secure your waistband to the appropriate place using my Martha Stewart sized hot glue gun.  You may have heard jokes about dad’s  duct taping and using staple guns…the glue gun is the my version. 

All piercings should be closed (surgically) and tattoos permanently removed (using a sand blaster if necessary).  My daughter will not be dating a stinky smoke-stack so you will quit smoking.  If any of these things require time,  I have no problem with you postponing your plans with her …indefinitely. 

So, now let’s talk about your arrival: 

You must come to the door and respectfully greet me by shaking my hand – I will be very happy if you are profusely sweating.  This is a good indication of fear and is disgusting making you unattractive to my daughter.

 If your parents have driven you over, they should accompany you to the door as well.  It would be helpful  if you all could provide letters of reference attesting to scholastic achievement, work ethic and honest nature.  Your chances of leaving with my daughter greatly  increase if your parents bring the deed to their home which I will turn back over to them upon my daughter arriving safely home and on-time.  

Once the paper work has been reviewed I will invite you in.  We will make small talk.  Honestly, I have no interest in getting to know you.  The purpose of this time is for you to take close notice of the large shot gun over the fireplace and for me to make you feel uncomfortable.  My goal is to scare you so you go away…forever…

Part of this conversation will be a fierce interrogation of your plans for the evening.  Thank you for providing a typed itinerary in advance. 

At some point, and only when I am comfortable you have a chance of survival, my daughter will appear.   When greeting my daughter you are to address her by the proper name her father and I gave to her at her birth.  “Baby,” “Hot Stuff,” and “S’up” all guarantee you an automatic ejection from the foyer directly into the front yard.  The means by which that would happen would not be pleasant and would not include your feet touching the ground as you cover that distance.

Your job is to boost my daughter’s self-esteem but not in a way that suggest you have taken notice of anything below her shoulders – because you will never ever look there...ever.  Compliment her hair and earrings.  In the next few weeks it is going to take me to run your background check, please practice positioning your eyes so they are always staring above the five foot mark, this includes when you are in a seated position. Your neck muscles may ache...suck it up.  

After several minutes, or hours, depending on how long I want you to suffer, I will suggest “ok, well you two kids go have fun.”  This is not an actual suggestion that you should have fun…you, my new best friend, should not have any intention of having any fun.  After our obligatory handshake good bye (after which I hope to need a hand towel) you should jester for my daughter to exit first and I best see you open the car door for her. 

Lastly, pay no attention to the ninja hanging from the tree in my front yard.  As you close my daughter's door he will shoot a dart of deadly bacteria into your neck (it won’t hurt that much) The antidote will be available in my foyer  for only 30 seconds 15 minutes BEFORE my daughter’s curfew.  This was the idea of my personal trainer, and is pure genius.  

This is only step one of the process.  Once you have demonstrated you understand and will comply with the above, we will move onto "Step 2:  how to act appropriately on a date with my daughter"; followed by "Step 3:  appropriate date follow-up."

In conclusion, in case you are wondering, my daughter is worth any pain and suffering you may go through under my watch.  She is a phenomenal young women  and should be treated as if she is more valuable and rare than a Faberge Egg…because she is. 

1 comment:

  1. I truly enjoyed this blog! had me craking up in my office.:)