I guess I should’ve figured something like this would happen one day. My son Will, who has just turned sixteen, is now dating, and was out on one this past Saturday night. I happened to be sitting in the den watching one of those high speed cop chase TV shows when he returned home from said date. He walked in, nodded, and then looked at me somewhat seriously and said,

“Dad, I need to ask you something. Tonight I took Candi to the movies, and I even let her pick out the movie. I bought our tickets and I even bought her some refreshments before we went into the theatre, even though I’ll be broke for the next two weeks. I did all that, and then when we sat down in our seats she looked over at me and asked if I liked her blouse? Dad, between us, it was this weird sort of orange looking deal, in fact, it looked just like someone had rubbed red clay all over it. I thought I’d at least be polite, so I told her that I liked it okay. She looked at me and said, “Just okay?” I agreed again that I liked it okay. Dad, she didn’t hardly even speak to me for the rest of the evening.”

After a moment of meditative silence, Will asked, “Dad, do you understand women? What should I have done instead?”

God.

Will listened as I continued, “Son, the first mistake you made was even commenting on her clothes in the first place. Never tell a woman what you really think about her clothes. If she covers her body from head to toe in burlap bags and ties a snake around her waist, tell her that it’s the most stylish outfit that you’ve ever seen. And leave it at that. Talking to women about their clothes is like talking to them about their relatives - no possible good can come from it.”

Will nodded, and I continued, “The second mistake you made was buying her a bunch of stuff to eat at the movies on the front end. If this was your first date with her you had no idea as to how things would go. The best thing would’ve been to take her into the theatre, see how things progressed for an hour or so, and then make the decision as to whether or not you want to blow fifteen or twenty bucks on refreshments. If things go well, that’s great, spend the dough with a big smile on your face. If they don‘t, well, as soon as the movie is over tell her that you think you’re starting to get an intestinal bug and that you need to get her home really fast. Then, rush her on home, say goodbye quickly and leave, and then stop off at Nu-Way on your way back for a couple of tasty all-the-way dogs.”

Will nodded respectfully at all that, then asked, “So Dad, what you’re telling me is that dating women is sort of like the stock market, that you shouldn’t invest until you know more about the company‘s performance?”

I sagely replied as follows, “Son, I see it more like this. Dating is sort of like a war, you don’t want to oversupply the front until you’ve seen that you’ve made some reasonable advances....”

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