Growing up, I was the only girl (barring my mama) in a house ripe with testosterone. Sandwiched between two boys, & being Daddy’s little girl meant that my love life came under a lot of scrutiny.
I’ll always remember the one (& only) time one of my high school boyfriends came around to the house. It was late June, he was my grad date (we were in Luv), & can’t remember what we were doing but for some reason he insisted on coming inside.
Rookie mistake, high school boyfriend, rookie mistake.
Not only was my dad sitting at the kitchen table, drinking, but it was a rare moment when both my brothers were home, also drinking, & my Grandpa was there too. It was the least opportune moment for this poor kid, but I couldn’t stop it. I let it happen.
I mean, it really is the ultimate test: can you run with the family? Can you handle an 80 year old man asking whether your pants are long-shorts or short-longs? Can you deal with my brothers asking you questions about soccer (aka football, in this house) of which you have no clue? Can you manage my dad’s incredibly dry sense of humour as he pokes fun at you for having no idea what the heck is going on?
So far, no guy has been able too. & that’s fine — my dad has gotten pretty good at keeping his little girl single, & he’s probably a big reason why I’m alone… But I don’t care. I don’t want a man in my life who can’t handle the men in my life.
The standard has been set high for my future mate, & is that really a bad thing?
So thank you dad, for lots of things: feeding me, clothing me, sheltering me, taking care of me, & weeding out the loser boyfriends in my life.
Happy Father’s Day, folks!