Ice's 10 rules of dating my daughters . . .

I ran across this older post on my gaming board, The Amazon Basin and it gave me a chuckle on parenting and children coming of age and dating.  I thought I would post on my blog so others may gain insight into their own experiences.  This was written in 2006 and brought with it several events that have run full circle now in my family’s life.

Enjoy.

As my youngest daughter has grown up and started dating it has become apparent that I needed to break out the rules again for dating my daughter.  Before the holidays I had a strange thing that happened and wanted to share it with you. 

On one of the weekends before the Thanksgiving holiday some little girls stopped by the house to sell some gift wrapping paper for a school project.  This happens every year and talking with the neighbors kids was nice seeing how they were doing and what was happening in their school.  One of the young girls asked me if we could get the car that parked at the edge of our property to move it a little as it blocked the trail the kids use across the property as a shortcut to walk to school.  They walk in the snow in below zero temperatures uphill both ways so it was not a problem for them to ask.

I stated that I believed the vehicle belonged to the house on the other side of the road and up on the hill. (I figured they were parking there since with the snowfall it was easier than going up the hill).  I had not seen this vehicle so I did not know who it belonged to but figured it must be the neighbors.

The following week one of my neighbors saw me outside putting up lights for the holidays and stopped to talk.  I had not met this neighbor yet so I thought he was stopping to invite me to a neighborhood meeting about upcoming snow plowing and maintenance of our road. 

The conversation started out with him saying, “If it was me and the situations were reversed I would want you to stop and talk to me.”  Now when a conversation starts off that way you are not really sure where it is going to go from that point so I am intrigued and also apprehensive at the same time.  He goes on to tell me that several nights ago he was walking his dog pretty late in the evening and as he walks up the road there is a small car parked at the end of my property next to the trail.  My mind jumps back to the conversation with the little girls and I want to say that it is probably the neighbor’s vehicle across from us on the hill. 

I was jolted back to the reality of his conversation when he starts telling me that as he was walking his dog the vehicle pulled up and parked and a “boy” had gotten out and walked toward my house.  As he walked by the front of the house he could now see the “boy” climbing into my daughter’s bedroom window. 

He wanted to let me know and return the favor if I should ever see something going on at his house a couple houses away.  We chatted for a couple more minutes then it was time to find out what the hell was going on.

Needless to say it was time again to post my rules for dating my girls.

Rule One:     If you pull into my driveway and honk, you'd better be delivering a package . . . because you're 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 my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys your age to wear their trousers so loose 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 will 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 stapler and fasten your trousers securely in place.

Rule Four:    I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, having sex without using a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex with my daughter, I am the barrier and I am the one who will do the killing.

Rule Five:     It is generally 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 answer I need from you on this subject is "Early."

Rule Six:      I have no doubt that 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, even if 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 proposed Gravina Island Bridge (Alaska’s Bridge to Nowhere). Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful like changing the oil in my truck or shoveling my driveway?

Rule Eight:   The following locations 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 is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her throat. Movies with strong romantic or sexual themes are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks' homes are better.

Rule Nine:    Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a pot bellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But 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 shovel and two and a half acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:     Be afraid. Be very afraid. 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 the 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, and then return to your car. There is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.  Thanksgiving, Christmas, and her birthday are the only exceptions.


These are the rules I propose if you want to date my daughter. I do not bend, I will not waiver . . .

Oh yeah,

About the climbing into the bedroom window . . .

I’ll just save that for another story.

Ice