There are a lot of “Daddy’s Girls” out there, but I am not one of them.
To define our relationship like that would misconstrue it; we were simpatico. I’d say it was bad experiences throughout school which probably made me much more accepting.
I grew up in a wonderful and loving home in Southern California.
Your parents are supposed to be the only people you can count on to love you unconditionally.
And yet here he was, proposing ridiculous conditions in order for us to even be in the same room together.
My dad is tremendously funny and a phenomenal story teller. I wore the same pair of vans tennis shoes to school for 5 years straight, had long un-brushed hair, and wore oversized sweatshirts and jean shorts to school. Because I wasn’t popular and because I was picky, I didn’t go on a single date until I was almost 20 years old. I thought it best to not deal with this all in real time in hopes that my Dad would come to his senses.
I think I always had a high bar when it came to dating because my dad really had it all; he was tall, dark, and handsome, educated, successful, ethical, funny, athletic, and handy. He was a tall, blonde, surfer that ended up moving to San Diego for college and that was the end of that. My aunt, however, told me both Aaron and I were welcome over for Christmas so I jumped at the opportunity.
After a few hours of intense conversation he ultimately decided that this relationship was not for him.