Dating Rules for my Daughter

Complete strangers often approach me to tell me how absolutely adorable my children are.  I typically accept such comments with deep pride. However, on three different occasions now, I have had unknown individuals tell me that my children are so cute that they can sympathize with kidnappers.  That is not right, people.  That is just not right.

In further news about not right comments regarding my children, this morning I had to see the doctor.  I had both my son and daughter with me.  While he was sleeping in his car seat, she was sitting on my lap giving the nurse smiles.  My daughter is a blue-eyed, blonde haired little beauty with the most luscious, long eyelashes I have ever seen on an individual of any age. (No need for Latisse there.)  So, the nurse was commenting on my daughter’s beautiful eyes and followed this remark with, “She is just so beautiful; you’re going to have to buy her a chastity belt.”  My daughter is not even two years old.  Way too early for that comment. 

Is it possible for your kids to be too cute?  Maybe I should stop bathing them and brushing their hair so that people stop saying weird shit to me.  This most recent comment also created maternal concern of a different nature, so I determined it’s best if I start developing some dating rules right now.  As one might rightly assume, the following set of rules have generally been born of my own bad experience.

1.       Never, ever, date a guy who plays Magic the Gathering.  He fucking loves that game more than he loves you.  Trust me.

 

2.       Do not continue to be “just friends” (aka fuck buddies) with a man for more than two years.  This is not normal.  If the relationship has not progressed by this time, you clearly both suffer from emotional damage.  Move on.  There will never be a genuine connection.

 

3.       Unless you are camping or hiking, there is absolutely no reason your boyfriend should be carrying a canteen.  This is fucking weird and that man is so not marriage material.

 

4.       If he says he’s studying herbology, that dude is really on drugs. Stop dating him.

 

5.       If you can relate to any of Avril Lavigne’s whiny lyrics, it is also time to move on.  It’s not that “complicated”; just dump that dude.

 

6.       Never settle for a sloppy sandwich.  If he knows you, he will spread your peanut butter and jelly to the correct consistency.  (This isn’t a euphemism for sex; I’m really just talking about bread here.) And if he ever dares use chunky when you like it creamy, it should be over.  The point here is that you truly deserve someone who is attentive to you and your interests.

 

7.       If he has more than ten ex-girlfriends, it’s not because he was waiting for you to come along.  The problem is not that he just hasn’t found the right one; it’s the fact that he is a mega asshole.  You will never fix that man; use your time to read a book instead.

8.       You must RUN RIGHT NOW if he talks in his sleep and tells you he has multiple personalities, especially one whom is named Micah.  Micah hates you and is determined to make your life miserable.

 

9.       Homemade gifts are not sweet; they’re cheap.  If he gives you a rock tied to a piece of yarn, and calls it a necklace, do not say “thank you” and accept that shit.  This remains true even if he attempts to justify his “gift” by explaining that you resemble the rock in that you’re both unique and beautiful.  The only exception to this rule is if that rock is a diamond.  He can tie that shit to yarn, fishing line, or even dental floss.  Then you do indeed say thank you, but also know that you don’t owe him anything.

 

10.   He should meet your mother.  By the time you’re old enough to begin dating, there’s an extremely high probability (like 110%) that you will be embarrassed by your mother.  Suck it up and introduce me.  I have developed a fairly strong ability to detect assholes.

Having established such rules, I accept there’s also a possibility you may like women.  I think it’s probably too early to tell, just like it’s too early to mention the necessity of a chastity belt.  If this should be the case, know that I will still love you, and you just might be better off because you can probably disregard some of the aforementioned rules.  Most of the problems cited in these rules have only been attributed to people with penises. Why do think “dick” is synonymous with “jerk”?  Nobody ever claims that his boss is a “total vagina.”  But if you should ever meet the man who does, you should probably date him.  He sounds delightful.

Do as John Mayer Says



I generally think of John Mayer as a giant tool, but he got it absolutely right with his song “Daughters.”  Fathers, you need to be good to your girls and raise them to have self-worth.  If need be, you tell them, just as Abileen does in Kathryn Stockett’s spectacular novel The Help, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.”  Because if your daughter doesn’t know that she is a person of value, she may end up with someone like John Mayer, who, despite this lovely little tune, will bang your baby and then brag about it in the pages of Playboy magazine. While I am now grateful for my father every single day and truly believe he was always only doing the best he knew how, I wasn’t brought up with high self-esteem. My father liked to point out my acne, as if this would somehow encourage me to take more careful care of my skin and make all zits magically disappear. He also referred to me as fat, even though I graduated from high school at 110 pounds. I think he believed such comments would keep me fit. Instead, I honestly thought I was a repulsive young adult.  If ever a male classmate asked me out, I thought he was doing so out of cruelty and merely to mock me.  So, I generally dated losers because they were the only ones I believed could possibly be sincere in their interest.  This is a story about another dick I dated; thanks a lot Dad.

John Mayer: Douche-Bag Anomaly

Dan (name not so cleverly altered) asked me out on five different occasions, and I rejected him on five different occasions.  On his sixth attempt, I finally agreed just because I was so exhausted with him.  Somehow I rationalized that dating him for a brief bit would “get him off my back,” though I later learned he really just wanted me on mine.  This was after high school during a summer when I was home from college.  As I live in a town that I considered quite dull in my younger age, I figured I really didn’t have anything better to do anyway. 

Dan was nice before we started officially dating.  He told me I was pretty and he made me laugh.  I’m a sucker for a funny guy, even if he is fugly.  (I can’t believe I just used the word fugly; I have been working with high school students too long.) So, I guess things couldn’t be that bad anyhow, even though there was no reciprocal attraction on my part.  I was wrong.  We started dating, and he became a monster.  He told me I didn’t try hard enough to be pretty, and that I had really let myself go since high school, turning into a “total fat ass.”  I had indeed gained about fifteen  to twenty pounds, but, in retrospect, I was still looking all right.  (I wish I weighed now what I weighed when I only thought I was fat.)  He said he didn’t believe that was all I gained, so he made me get on a scale.  I repeat this: he made me get on a scale for verification.  I want to go back and kick my own ass for allowing this.  And I kept dating him. 

Here’s something else I’m totally ashamed to admit: he played Magic the Gathering.  Fucking Magic the Gathering.  I dated a guy who played Magic the Gathering. I must repeat this for confirmation as I remain in disbelief all these years later. Yeah, I’m a hater, but trust that it’s justified.  One day, he asked me to pass him his case of cards, and I accidently dropped them.  He lost it – absolutely, totally, completely lost it.  I don’t know if I’ve ever heard such screeching in my life as I was declared the “stupidest fucking bitch ever!”  ever! EVER! And I kept dating him.

One Friday night, he went to a party out of town.  That same night, he slept with some girl he had just met. I found out about this from a mutual friend.  When confronted, he defended himself by sharing, “But I had to.  She looked just like Gwyneth Paltrow.”  True story – he actually said that.  Not so true story – she looked nothing like Gwyneth Paltrow.  When I told our mutual friend of this reply, he laughed out loud, and informed me, “Gwyneth Paltrow my ass!  That girl was like 5’2” and 200 pounds.  She had fucking Britney Spears pig tails and a fucking Hello Kitty backpack.”  (Readers, remember that this event occurred about fifteen years ago when cuckoo little Brit-Brit first came on the scene as a seductive school girl begging to be hit one more time.)  I can’t say I was all that mad that he had “cheated” on me, because I really didn’t give a shit about our relationship.  So, I still kept dating him.  

I honestly cannot remember what finally led to our break up.  I can only assume whatever he said or did to me was so horrific that my mind kindly chose to erase that memory when I later suffered from a closed head injury.  I do remember him saying this though, as his weird ass way of bringing closure to our relationship I suppose: “You know, it’s like this – sometimes you go to a restaurant and everything on the menu looks good, so you order an appetizer tray and an entrée.  You eat all the appetizers, and then when the entrée comes, you decide you really didn’t want the whole meal.  You’re not my main dish.  You’re the appetizer tray.”  So very eloquent and touching.  Why did I ever let such a man get away from me?

 Fuck me; I was a stupid girl.  All fathers – please rush home this instant to tell your daughter she is intelligent and beautiful and worth way more than a comparison to some potato skins and onion peels.  Ensure that she doesn’t step on a scale for any man, and doesn’t stay with any one that would declare her a dumb bitch.  Fathers – be good to your daughters.  Don’t you dare let them date dicks like I did – even if he asks her out for a sixth, seventh, or eighth time.   And fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, all good people of the earth – remember this always: Do as John Mayer says and not as John Mayer does.