Rules for Dating My Daughter

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. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off 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... You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants 10 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 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. 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 is when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house.


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 OK 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 hall way, waiting for my daughter to appear, and an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. Instead of just standing there, why not do something useful, like change 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, police or nuns. Places where there is dancing, holding hands or happiness. Romantic movies are to be avoided. Hockey games are OK. Old folk's homes are better.

RULE NINE: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dim-witted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter I am the all-knowing merciless god of your universe. If I ask where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

RULE TEN: Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange acts up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean my guns, as I wait for you to bring my little girl home. As soon as you pull onto the driveway, exit your car. Announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home early then return to your car. There is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

Rule Eleven: Please point out to me the place on your puny body that you would least like to be shot in.