Dads Against Daughters Dating

Posted by Danny

This is my favorite t-shirt.  D.A.D.D.:  Dads Against Daughters Dating. 

Two summers ago, DJ was at the beach with friends.  I received a call from her in the middle of the day.  I was at work.  “Dad, I found a t-shirt I think you’re really going to like.  It says Dads Against Daughters Dating.  It’s $11.  Do you want me to buy it?”

“Are you crazy?  Buy two!!  I’ll have the money waiting for you when you walk in the door.”  Every time I wear it a father comes up to me to find out where I got it.  I proudly announce that my oldest daughter bought it for me.

I guess I have dating on my mind this week because the school dance is on Friday.  I’m fine for DJ to go.  I just don’t want her to go with a boy.  And frankly, I’d just assume her not dance with one either. 

I used to share my dating philosophy with Lisa.  She would home-school the girls when they got old enough to date.  That would insure that there weren’t a lot of opportunities for them to meet the fellas.  They would attend Meredith College, two blocks from our house.  I’d drop them off on my way to work.  After class, they’d wait in the library until I could swing by and pick them up at about 5:30.  We’d come home, start their homework and watch a family movie each night at 10.  

The thought of Lisa homeschooling our kids really does bring a smile to my face.  I’m not sure exactly what would have happened, but I can assure you it would not have been pretty.  And she would readily admit that as I dreamed out loud.

I’m a sap.  I can never give my girls away at their weddings.  I was once in a wedding when the minister asked the father of the bride, “Who gives this bride to be married?”  And the dad responded, “Her mother.”  That’s my kind of man!  I was so counting on Lisa to do the heavy lifting on that special day.  This just adds to my angst about dating.  It just ain’t happenin’ on Dellwood Drive.

I chaperoned the school dance DJ’s sixth grade year.  Lisa was running the student council at school and asked if I’d help.  I gladly volunteered. 

I perched on the bleachers in the gym high enough up to see the goings on.  The principal of the middle school was a hawk – I admired her so.  It’s a Christian School so she could rightfully walk through the crowd during the slow dance yelling, “Leave room for Jesus!  Leave room for Jesus!”  The kids laughed, but their arms got stiffer, exactly as Mrs. Reedy had planned. 

When I would see one of those beady eyed eighth grade boys snuggling up a bit too close, I’d leave my seat and stroll close to him.  I was sure to catch his eye.  A cold stare from a forty-year old.  Brow furroughed.  Chest poked out.  Eventually the kid would get uncomfortable.  Was it my demeanor?  Or was he just freaked out by the weirdo in the gym?  Didn’t matter. 

Yeah.  Back away buddy – You heard me.  They’d break up and head over to the opposite end of the gym.  My job was done.

I felt I owed it to all of the other fathers who weren’t allowed to attend the dance.  My stare was for all of them.  My presence was a message to all those young boys.  Don’t get too close to our daughters!  Or else.

We have to look after each other guys.  If you see a dude at the mall making out with his girl, it’s your duty to intervene.  Wouldn’t you want that if it was your daughter?  Walk right up – demand that they stop.  Offer to call her father, she’s probably dying to get away.  Call the cops if necessary.  This is important. 

Get out there men!  Take a stand.

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