Friday Night Ride to the Football Game

Tonight’s music selection: Wild Ones by Flo Rida

Last week’s backseat friend got a ride again this week. On the way there he said, “Frank it’s a good thing so-and-so is your girlfriend cuz the dance after homecoming is the snowball dance and it’s girl’s choice.” I wasn’t sure how the two things connected exactly but then he went on.

“I mean, you can’t say no.” Wait. You can say no, thank you. Just like if a guy asked a girl to homecoming and she was already going with someone else, or had a boyfriend, or whatever, she could say no. Backseat friend was greatly relieved to hear it. 

Then he said, “I told so-and-so she couldn’t wear peach to homecoming. I hate peach. She can't wear peach.”

Wait a minute, again. As nicely as I could, I explained that it is much harder for a girl to decide what she’s going to wear than it is for a boy, and to never (ever, ever) tell a girl what she should or shouldn't wear. 

PTSD of a guy I went out with a few times in my early twenties. He lasted about two weeks, which was how long it took him to start telling me I should wear something other than what I was wearing. I think it happened once, and I showed him the door.

“But she asked my opinion.”

I turned around and gave him the eyebrow.

“So I guess giving her my opinion was the wrong answer. So I should just tell her to wear whatever she wants.” Basically, but then perhaps add that you’re sure whatever she chooses she'll look beautiful in.

Mmm, hmm. I got an enthusiastic “Thanks Mrs. Buchman,” as he got out of the car.

Boys.