Before I went off to Winter Formal last night, my concerned father felt it was his need to express his feelings towards dating to me. The jist of it was that men, especially handsome men, are vermin scum. He informed me that I would not be allowed to date until I am a minimum of forty-seven years old, and even then my dates will have to be unattractive. I think he'd think up schemes to creep guys out such as keeping horses in the garage, and if they failed to be spooked, he would politely ask him to leave, from behind the machine gun that he will keep mounted on a tripod in the living room. Then he would place a sign in front of the machine gun that says: "Kiss THIS, Prince Charming." I'm kidding of course. He may be a protective dad, but he's also a realistic and reasonable human. SO he reconciled that i could date at thirty-seven.