Sunday, October 16, 2011

A Father's Fictional Interview With A Daughter's Fictional Prospective Boyfriend

First of all…I remember what it was like being a raging hormonal teenaged boy/ young man.  Deep down we are/were a bunch of no-good rotten sons-a-bitches…

With that in mind, let us commence with the interrogation.

Why do you want to date my daughter? 

What is it that attracts you to her? 

If you are a smart lad you will not answer, “…her smokin’ body.”

You will answer something about her intellect, her sense of humor, her musical and athletic ability, her leadership skills, or her strong-willed and independent personality.

Those would all be excellent answers.

How do you think she got to be the person you so admire?

I’ll tell you how.  It’s because her mother and I raised her that way.

That said…you had better show respect to her mother and I for how we raised our daughter, and you had better respect our daughter and treat her with the respect SHE deserves.

If you do not, you will not be seeing my daughter socially, and you and I will have a big problem.

You may be asking yourself, “Mr. Zoomie…exactly how should I show that respect?”

Be a man and a gentleman at all times. 

You should be old enough to know what that means, especially if you were raised by a proper father.  However…these days, I cannot assume this is the case…so I’ll try to help you.

You will speak to my daughter as you would your own mother.  (I’ll assume you show your own mother respect and courtesy.) 

Ghetto parlance, trash talk, insults, and put-downs are not acceptable. 

Pretend I am standing within earshot when you speak to my daughter, and you should be good to go.

You and I both know there are a lot of punks, assholes, and predators out there.  I’ll assume (for now) that you are not one of them, as otherwise my daughter wouldn’t have chosen you to date.

Do you know how to fight?  Have you ever been punched in the face?   Are you at least WILLING to fight?

You had better be willing to fight if you are going to go out in public with my daughter.  It will be your job to protect her and defend her honor when I cannot.

A dramatic representation of what I'm talking about

If you must defend my daughter, I expect you to fight like a lion.  I don’t expect you to be Bruce Lee, but I expect you to put in one hell of an effort.  If you don’t believe you are willing and able to do this, then I can’t help you, and you can’t date my daughter.

I am willing to take a bullet for my daughter.

Are you?

You cannot possibly know what it is like to be a father, but I’ll ask you this.

Do you have a sister who you love?  Would you want a young man like you going out with her?  How would you want a young man to treat your sister?

 A father feels the same way about his daughter, only a thousand times more.

There will be no drugs, booze, or weed while you date my daughter.  I know what all three look like, taste like, and smell like.  Back in my rowdy younger days, and unlike President Clinton, I inhaled.

These days, from what I am led to believe, much of your generation considers oral sex akin to a good night kiss…no big deal and commonly expected.

Guess again.

Oral sex IS sex, despite what President Clinton says, and there will be none of it either.

My daughter is precious to me.  She is no one’s plaything or sex toy.  If she is abused, I will return the abuse ten-fold to the abuser.

That is a promise, not a threat.

I am very sneaky, and although I am old, I know my way around computers and the Internet.  If you ask any of my children, they will tell you that I have discovered many things they really didn’t want me to know about.

Because I am old, I am wise.

Because I am old, I also know many treacherous dirty tricks.

You should remember three things about me:

-I am fiercely protective of my family.
-I have a good-sized firearms collection.
-I practice.

I hope you and my daughter have an enjoyable date.

I expect her return no later than 11pm.

Rules For Dating This Marine’s Daughter (revised)

-original author unknown

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 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 ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your 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 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:
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 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 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 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 are 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 throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. 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 five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a SCUD missile coming in over a sand dune near Kuwait. When my Post Traumatic Stress starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns 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. Speak the perimeter password, announce 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.

1 comment:

Feel free to comment away with your bad-ass selves.

Cursing and foul language is fine...even encouraged here. In fact, I think cussing is fucking wonderful.

Just remember...this is MY house, and I will not be insulted or maliciously messed with here.

Good-natured ribbing is cool, but if you and I don't have some kind of previous relationship, you had best mind your fucking manners or I will relegate you to the intardnets dustbin for being a cunt.

To know me is to love me.

Or something.