Copyright 1998 W. Bruce Cameron
http://www.wbrucecameron.com/ 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.
Eight
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 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 befair 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 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 a goose
down parka zipped up to her adam's apple.
Movies with a strong romantic or sexual
theme are to be avoided; movies which
feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games
are okay.
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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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