EIGHT DATING RULES
>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 my >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 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. > >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?