Blog: My Father's Advice
Sitting here in my dusty hotel room. I’ve been away from home for months now, and have had time to reflect.
I’ve reflected on the choices that led me to where I am. Opportunities both seized and missed. And while reflecting on relationship advice, it occurred to me that 90% of the guidance I received throughout my life came from my mother. She always had some kind of fucking saying or quip that seemed to tie into any situation. But, while the quantity was vast, the quality was fairly shitty. Especially when it came to relationships.
Now, I have a theory. My mom was very involved in my young life. Hell, she still is. And that is why, I believe, the quality of her relationship guidance was of little real use. There was also a level of interpreting that was required to decipher her meaning from the words she spoke.
Example: When my mom told me that a girl I was seeing seemed like a “nice girl.” What she was really saying is that she is ugly and I can do better.
If mom used the word “sweet” in reference to my love interest, what she was really saying is that she thinks the girl is stupid.
And if she said the words “focused, driven, or motivated” what she meant was that she thought the girl was a bitch.
See where I am going with this? My mother often displayed a trait that a lot of mothers possess. She did not think any fucking girl was good enough for her son. Consequently, I discovered early on that her advice/opinions were not to be taken too seriously.
My father though. He was a different story entirely. I could always rely on dad to give an unbridled opinion in as few words as possible.
By the time I really started dating, my parents had divorced. And while my mother always found occasion to end up meeting my flame of the moment, dad only met a few. I only ever took one to meet him. But, living in a small town, I would end up running into him from time to time with different chicks.
We had an arrangement, my father and I. The deal was, I would not get offended by anything he deduced from these short meetings, and he would pull no punches in an attempt to be kind. It is important to note that he was never intentionally cruel. Nor, did he ever say shit to be funny or have a dramatic effect.
Instead, he matter-of-factly laid out his thoughts. And always with the preamble “Now, I’m not telling you what to do, date who you like, but ________________← insert quip here.
The result was some bits of memorable advice I will be passing onto you now.
Upon meeting Allison he remarked: “Now, I’m not telling you what to do, date who you like, but that girl has big wrists. Women with big wrists always grow into them.
Upon meeting Sarah he remarked: “Now, I’m not telling you what to do, date who you like, but every Sarah I’ve ever known has been batshit crazy.”
Upon meeting Rebecca he remarked: “Now, I’m not telling you what to do, date who you like, but I know that girl’s mom. Have you seen her mom? She’s never seen a buffet line she couldn’t eat into submission. Remember this son, women always grow up to look like their mothers.”
Upon meeting Shay he remarked: “Now, I’m not telling you what to do, date who you like, but you don’t marry girls like her. You have fun with them and then move on. The man who marries that one will always have to wonder who is visiting while he is away.”
Upon meeting Ally he remarked: “Now, I’m not telling you what to do, date who you like, but Ally is a stripper’s name. A crying stripper at that.”
Upon meeting Ally again he remarked: “Now, I’m not telling you what to do, date who you like, but you marry who you date, boy! Are you planning on marrying this girl? No? Then move the hell on. You’re wasting her fucking time.”
His advice about women, in general, was valuable as well:
“If you love her then marry her. If you don’t then drop her on her ass. It’ll sting some, and she will probably hate you for a while. But, stringing a girl along is just mean.”
“You don’t fuck women named Bethany. Goddamn boy have I taught you nothing? Bethany’s will cut your pecker off in your sleep.”
“She’s a teacher huh? Do you just like bad sex and lots of unnecessary talking or something?”
“This, right now, is the best it will ever be. You’re trying to win her. She is trying to win you. If this shit you have going on right now requires work, then what the hell do you think it’ll be like 10 years from now when she isn’t trying to impress you?
“Know why the bride is smiling as she walks down the aisle? She knows she has given her last blow job.”
“It really depends on what you’re looking for. If you want a girl who loves sex then move to the South. If you want a girl who is going to help you earn then move to a coast. If you want a girl who will love you unconditionally then move to Spain. But if you want all of the above you’re going to have to move to Nebraska.”
And my personal favorite: “Now, this girl Michelle. Do you really want my impression? OK. I’m not going to say she has sucked off every man she has ever seen, but I’d be willing to bet a paycheck that she has given it the old college try.”
All these years later I sit here and chuckle. More often than not his advice was right on the money. As rude as he was, he had my best interest at heart.
Dad advice has stuck with me while mom advice gets lost in the mix. I think it is because he spoke my language and told me exactly what I needed to hear without worrying about whether it would come between us.
I sit here and think about how fucking crazy the dating world must be now. Apps and social media and speed dates being what they are. I also think about all of the young men I know who did not grow up with a father in the home. I find myself correlating some of the things I see these guys do with being raised by women. These guys polish, primp, wax, shave, and exfoliate themselves to a bright sheen and then fawn all over whatever fucking broads will give them the time of day.
I see grown men wearing pink. I see them wearing capris and flip flops. I see these men tailoring their every movement to what they think a girl might want.
I know I am not raising my boys to be what I am seeing. I’m instilling in them the importance of being a traditional man. Traditional men carry pocket knives and hold doors open for women. They help the elderly and they kill the spider for their sister. The young men I am raising carry handkerchiefs and know the value of a hard day’s work. In short, I am raising the kind of man my dad would be proud of.