Dating Daughter

Have ya'll wondered how your going to handle your daughter dating? Have you considered chastity belts, bodily harm, physical threats and intimidation?

I remember when I was about 16 years old, I was dating a charming blonde girl. She shall remain nameless for the sake of the story. Her father was a truck driver and never home. We had been dating for about three months before I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance. I walked into the house and there he sat, cleaning his Remington 1100 shotgun. One brief aside, I have been around guns all of my life, there is nothing evil or threatening about them. They are simply a tool, a fun tool, but still a tool. He looks at me and said something that has been lost in my aging (31, where does it go?) mind. I replied. The funny thing about firearms is that when they are apart, they don't work. His response? At 16 I never saw this one coming. "That's why I keep another in my pocket." Hmm, smart man.


So what is a father to do? A daughters virtue is something to be protected. Hence, the short questionaire:


A: If I were shot, the last place I would want shot would be:

B: If I were beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my:

C: A woman's place is in the:

D: The one thing I don't wantyou to find out about is:

E. What do you want to do IF you grow up?

F. When I meet a girl, the thing I always notice about her first is:

F. What is the current going rate of a hotel room?

G. What are your plans for military service and then college?


Daddy's Rules for Dating

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. 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 of 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. 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 propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants t en 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 in place 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. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, 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 from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: “early.”

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 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, and 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 than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing 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 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 T-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 chain saws are okay. Hockey games are very okay. Old folk’s homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a 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 shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a inbound RPG whizzing across the rooftops in Baghdad. 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 safe and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

So what are your ideas for defending virtue? By the way, I have time, she is seven.
Rules came from here