My dad is moving to Washington, DC in a month. I haven’t fully decided my feelings towards said move other than:
-Old man, I will believe you when you should up on my doorstep, suitcase in hand and ask politely to sleep on my couch for a night or two.
-And HEY! Remember when I moved 1,100 miles away from home?! It’s ‘cause all you bitches be crazy.
Despite having a good father-daughter relationship, I keep having dreams about us co-habitating in the same city. These are not *Chantix-induce crazy dreams as I was having this fall but mostly about him ruining my pimp game (what teeny tiny bit I have).
My father waits tables, among his many talents. In my dreams, a very dishy gentlemen takes me on a fancy date and my father is our server. That would be a hot first date. Hey! Meet my father! (He is watching you.) Wouldn’t you like to take off my clothes?
I sent him a text last weekend when I was out, figuring if he was going to hypothetically fuck with my dating life, I should warn him about the other rules I was going to break on the daily: I am out past curfew! I am drinking! And talking to boys! (I want to prepare you for living in a city with your daughter again).
This is going to be interesting.
*Hell yes, I quit smoking! But at a dear cost to my emotions. Those nightmare side effects were a mother fucker.