It’s party time. Every weekend, it seems. Day and night. And anywhere in between.
The girls have hit the fun stage of their young lives. The Teenager has been leading the way. Daughter Two is keen to make up for lost time.
Parties are springing up like post-monsoon weeds. Both ladies seem to be firmly on the major invite lists.
As difficult as it is for me to set aside the terror that such activity brings all Dads, I must admit that I’m happy for them. They’re finding new friends, and celebrating their youth.
Think hard, and you’ll remember doing the same thing. The excitement of a group invite, to the biggest bash in town.
There’s nothing like getting your best buds together for a kick-arse party. But with impeccable behavior, of course. We never know who might be reading.
There are a few things that seem to be different these days. One relates to attire.
It would seem that a rule was introduced recently, that forbids young women from wearing the same outfit to consecutive functions. New clothes are essential.
I hear this constantly. Forget looking into that bulging cupboard. The latest top and skirt combo is an absolute must.
The reaction to denial in such situations, borders on hysterical. It’s like they’re being deprived of oxygen.
I remember no such urgency as a young man. In the words of the great J. Cash, I would find my ‘cleanest dirty shirt’. The pile on the floor to choose from was large.
There was nothing else to wear but the favourite pair of jeans, and we were away. Not complicated, or expensive.
The other great difference I notice today is that the sexes seem to have no trouble talking to each other. The interaction appears to be very natural.
I get to see photos of the girls having fun, plastered over numerous social media sites. There is usually a muscle-bound young man lurking nearby. With a flashy smile. An easy manner. And a clean shirt.
Back in the day, it took us years to work up the courage to talk to the opposite sex. When we did, it was typical male gibber, usually related to how we fared at footy earlier that day. Looking back, it’s a miracle that any girl uttered a kind word in our direction before the age of 20.
Returning back to the world of extended credit cards, things will only get worse, of course. I’m ready for what’s ahead. So I tell myself.
As long as the girls are happy and safe, then I’ll be fine. Until the next batch of photos. It’s going to be a long decade.