Like a ton of bricks

by the Night Writer

It’s been a busy couple of days, complicated with a couple of headaches at work and ONE real migraine that has lasted now into it’s second day. I spent most of Tuesday evening updating my notes for this week’s “Marriageable” class, which was held last night. The focus in Week 3 was the difference between Courtship and Dating.

As the Mall Diva and Ben have a lot of experience in this area I asked them to come in and describe the way their relationship has progressed and answer any questions the lads had. It was a very lively session with a lot a lot of questions and some excellent answers; I’ll write more about it in an upcoming post that will be part of the “Are You Marriageable” series.

At one point, however, the young men were especially concerned about how courting is carried out in front of the family (or families, if possible), and the inherent expectation of proper behavior. During one answer, Ben made reference to knowing that any impropriety could result in me coming down on him “like a ton of bricks.”

“Oh, you’re exaggerating,” I said. “I don’t weigh anywhere near that much.”

It did remind me, however, that Ben has escaped my attentions relatively unscathed — at least compared to the experience of another would-be suitor who found himself at the point of a bloody knife. That was a story I’ve posted before, but I’ll re-run it here for amusement and edification of both new and long-time readers. It’s also a way for me to buy a little blogging time until my next post while my brain heals and work settles down.

A Night at the Prom
Regular readers of this blog know that my wife and I have a pretty simple philosophy when it comes to our teenage daughter, Faith, dating: No. (See here and here.) Therefore you might be surprised to hear that Faith went to the prom last Saturday night. And yes, there was a boy involved from an unrelated gene pool. How did this happen? One word: conspiracy.

6 thoughts on “Like a ton of bricks

  1. “Faith casually mentioned something about going to the prom. “Hmm,” I said, “let me think about that a minute. No.”

    ARE YOU ON CRACK?!

    I’m so sorry, please forgive me. My teenage self was resurrected for but a moment. Um. But still. It’s THE PROM.

    If you are trying to curtail extra curricular activities just make sure that their curfew is right when prom ends. All the shenanigans happen AFTER.

  2. I never went to the prom. And I lived to tell about it. In the grand scheme of things, it’s just not that important.

  3. Am I on crack? I don’t think so. Do you think I should try it?

    In this case, Faith was homeschooled and the “The Prom” wasn’t a big social thing where she needed to go to be part of the scene. It was the local high school’s prom, but she didn’t know many of the folks there beyond her cousin and a few kids that had gone to her (former) private school before transferring to the HS. She does love to dance, though, and she was especially taken with fancy dresses in those days.

    You’re right, though, that most of the shenanigans take place after the Prom (though if you noted the description of the dancing it would seem that post-Prom shenanigans were redundant). On top of that, a lot of the culture here has been to ever-more extravagant “amenities” such as group “sleep-overs” at fancy hotels, limos and other excesses. Again, not our style.

    She was able to go, however, because we knew her priorities and because it was a “group” activity. I don’t think she was too impressed with the things she saw. The young man who escorted her may have had some thoughts of establishing more of a relationship with her, but I think he decided it was going to be too much work, which was fine by moi. I think being willing to work hard for what’s important to you is a real good way of showing what’s important to you.

  4. “Do you think I should try it[crack]?”

    Well, I can’t personally recommend it, since I’ve never tried it, but I haven’t heard good things. 😉

    Anyway..about the prom. Maybe it’s just that I am remembering my own prom…fondly!

    We rented the penthouse of an older, art deco hotel on Southbeach in Miami. We stayed up ALL NIGHT and had a BLAST! Adam was sleeping on the loungers on the deck, and he got to be the first to see the sun rise. We had a couple of people who crashed on the floor of the closet. (Oh wait, that was me and my friend! Until I had a bout of claustrophobia, that is.)

    It wasn’t a night of drunken debauchery or anything. We just ran around, talked, and played. Walked down the beach in the grim gray of early morning. But we were the AP, gifted, and honors students. The top 3% (GPA-wise) of the school was there.

    I’m not saying everyone has this kind of experience, but we were all responsible, smart, young adults. None of our parents had anything to worry about. And the next morning when we walked bleary eyed to the IHOP down the road, we all sort of knew that we were trying to make the night last. We instinctively knew it was something we would remember always.

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