I'm not cut out for Dating!

A few days ago, Savannah texted me. "Mom, he asked me out!!!" referring to the boy she'd been talking about nonstop for the past week.
I immediately replied, "Yay!"
About two seconds later, I came to my senses and realized what I'd just written. What was wrong with me. Yay??? What was I thinking? What happened to those days of normal, rational thinking when boys said hi to my daughter.

I quickly texted back.
“I mean, aren’t you a little young? Yes, yes, you are. You’re too young.  Tell him thank you, but you’re not allowed to date until you’re thirty.”
Then I added, “Make that thirty-five.”

I don’t think she was amused.

Savannah asked me if her boy…, her boyfr…, her boyf…ugh, her friend who is male could come over here Friday night.

“You want to bring him here? To our house? Where we live with all your brothers and sisters? You remember your brothers and sisters, right? And you still want him to come over?” I asked incredulously. Maybe the thrill of this crush had melted her brain. Normally, Austin and Savannah don’t even want to bring longtime friends home because you never know what the little kids are going to do, but it’s pretty much guaranteed that they’ll do something embarrassing.  But she insisted she wanted him to come over here and meet everyone. 

So this young man came over this evening in his truck.  He drove.  He can drive.  By himself.  As we sat outside, eating what passes for pizza down here in Florida, this boy started talking about how he hurt himself while jumping over a chain link fence.  Being completely sensible and not one to jump to conclusions, I only thought for the briefest moment that he’d probably injured himself running from the police after knocking off a liquor store.  He went on to explain that he and some buddies had been “‘gator fishin’”.

“‘Gator fishin’?”  I inquired.  “As in fishing for alligators?  You’re a native Floridian, aren’t you?”

“Yes ma’am, fishing for alligators.”

“How does one fish for an alligator, and more importantly, why would one fish for an alligator?”

“Oh you just do it like you would fish for saltwater fish.”

“Ahhh yes, yes, how I would fish for saltwater fish,”  I said like I was an expert saltwater fisherman.

“And then there was this time my friends dared me to kiss a baby alligator, so I did.  And it clamped down on my mouth and we couldn’t pry its mouth open even with a knife.”

“Oh, so you give in to peer pressure and you’re stupid?  I mean, ouch, that must have hurt.  Did you need stitches?

“I don’t hang around with those guys anymore because they turned into real rednecks.  They shot a squirrel and cooked it for dinner.”

I threw up in my mouth a little before asking, “And these are the stories you tell people when you meet them for the first time?”

At one point in the evening, my good friend Eric called.  I told him that Savannah had a boy over and he instructed me to give him a message.  “Take two fingers and point at your eyes, then point at him,” Eric told me.  It wasn’t exactly the same as an overprotective father with a shotgun, but it’ll have to do, I guess.

Honestly, he seems like a nice boy and the fact that he was willing to come over here and brave the masses says a lot right there!  Still, Savannah’s never going anywhere in a car with a boy, no matter how nice he is.  She can just live with me forever.  We’ll get cats.  And drink tea.  And watch chic flicks every night.  It’ll be fun.