Wednesday, February 06, 2008

The Big Dance

So... I'm a tad late in sitting down and writing/finishing this, but what's new? The first part was written last week (pre-dance) the second part I just finally got around to finishing up... to keep the suspense going, I'll wait and post the last part tomorrow.

(Last Wednesday)
Friday will be my daughter's first big "dance." She got asked to the ROTC Ball by some poor gangly, pizza-faced, nervous, awkward boy. (Actually, I've never met him or seen him -- he could look like Tom Cruise for all I know -- I'm just running with the stereotype here.) As it turns out, I had taken the night off work so I could go to see an art show featuring the work of one of my best friends, so I had the whole evening off. My wife, on the other hand, will have to work until 6:00 p.m. which means dad is to be left at home for "dance prep" and boy meeting.

My dear wife has admonished me to be on my best behavior for boy-meeting night. Apparently in her abscense I'm forbidden from the following:

* Displaying Firearms
* Cursing at teenage boys
* Scowling
* Grimacing
* Answering the door in my underwear
* Answering the door in my wife's underwear
* Threats
* Homicide

I do love my wife dearly, but she certainly can take all the fun out of an evening I've been planning ever since my daughter was an infant. As I mulled it over in my mind; however, I got a little more introspective (the vodka does that to me) and I started thinking back to all the times I had to have a "first meeting" with some high school girl's dad. I remembered the extreme nervousness, the fear, the apprehension... it sucked. And then I realized that I had it much, much, much easier than ROTC boy was going to have it. You see, I went to an extremely conservative evangelical Christian high school. The dads I was meeting looked and acted something like this guy:

I, on the other hand, happen to be a mean, grouchy, fat, vulgar and ugly SOB. I recently learned (to my great amusement) that my daughter's friends, both male and female, all refer to me as "The Sergeant" due to my apparently stern demeanor and strict rules. If I had to meet a father like me when I was a lad, I undoubtedly would have simply skipped the date all together. No girl is worth having to meet ME.

Which is when I had my second epiphany: The girl who's dad scared me the most was the first girl I eventually ended up bedding and marrying. (He scared me so much, as a matter of fact, that I'm even kind of nervous thinking that my father-in-law might reach down from heaven and punch me in the skull when he reads that I wrote "bedding" before "marrying.") And it wasn't just the dad... she had BROTHERS. Older brothers... every one of which looked like he'd just as soon slice my throat as as shake my hand. As it turned out, they're all nice guys and my throat remains un-sliced to this day. (Of course, I don't know if they know about the whole "bedding/marrying" chronology yet.)

Maybe I should go easy on this schmuck. Maybe I should be more like Flanders than like... well, me. It's not easy being a horny teenage boy, is it? Horny? HORNY? Screw that... he'll get to meet "The Sergeant."


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