Funny Guy Friday… Homecoming...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So… I married a funny guy.
     It is that time of year again: the evening air is crisp; classes are back in full swing; and it's  homecoming time at the local high school.
     I was reminded of this seasonal football ritual when my daughter mentioned that our friend's son was on the homecoming ballot at his school. This struck me as very funny because we never had boys on our home coming court, only girls.
     So, I did what every friend would do to his good buddy, I called him and congratulated him on his little girl's accomplishment… I asked if his little girl had a nice dress picked out... and I wondered if she preferred a wrist corsage, a pin-on or just a bundle of flowers to carry.
     This boy had played baseball for my brother, and my dad-friend mentioned that when he had told my brother to make something of his son, he never thought it would lead to his being nominated for homecoming queen. I told him that my brother always said this boy was like the daughter he never had, and he would be proud of her.
     If you get a chance, let's all say a prayer that our friend's son realizes every little girl's dream.
     All of this leads me to reminisce about my own homecoming disaster. Not exactly a disaster but quite a humbling experience.
     I would like to sit here and write about how I played quarterback for our high school football team and was the star of the big game. Actually, I watched the game from the stands. But that is not the humbling part.
     I had a friend… who happened to be a very pretty girl.
     The two of us had a math class together, and for some reason, I struggled with that class. Fortunately, my friend was always willing to help me out. Okay, to be perfectly candid, the real trouble was not with my math skills but with my social skills. I really liked her and wanted to go out with her but was too much of a sissy to ask her out. Let's just say that no matter how much I tried, I could never get 1 plus 1 to equal 2.
     At first, I was nervous going over to her house because I liked her. I quickly got over that, but there was another big problem… her parents. Not really her parents because her mom was as sweet as could be. Her father, on the other hand, was a colonel in the Marines and bit of a disciplinarian legend.
     He was one of those fathers that boys would talk about and wonder if he could actually kill you with his pinky if you mistreated one of his four very pretty daughters. I was in the "yes, he would kill you with his pinky" camp. I will say that he always treated me well but why wouldn't he, I was Eddie Haskel on steroids. Yes sir. No sir. Whatever you say sir.
     After about three weeks, it had to be clear to everyone that the "tutoring" sessions were a mockery and a sham. I probably knew the material better than she did… but nobody looked better solving quadratic equations than she. My visits were becoming much more social than academic.
     One day, about two weeks before our high school homecoming dance, we were sitting in her living room when her father called her into the kitchen… out of my sight and out of my earshot. She was gone for several minutes before returning with a look of horror on her face. Immediately, I was grabbing my jacket and heading for the door. I must have done something to upset the colonel. She assured me that I had not… but something was seriously wrong.
     After several minutes, she told me what they had discussed. Her father had told her that that boy (me), that has been coming over for weeks now, and is currently sitting in the living room, is too much of a sissy to ask his daughter to the homecoming dance. As a result, he ordered her to come in and ask me to the homecoming dance.
     Now, this could have been viewed in two very different ways. First, my friend and her dad liked me so much that they cooked up this intricate plot to lure me to the homecoming dance. Or… he thought so little of me as a man that he decided he had to be my wing man with his daughter… and in the process, complete the emasculation.
     I was outraged, I was embarrassed. I was humiliated.
     I was elated.
     I was going to the homecoming dance with the colonel's daughter. I was never going to ask her on my own, and suddenly, she had been ordered to go with me by her father.
     Sir… Yes sir.
     As I sit here and think about it, my friend's son, the homecoming queen, is more of a man than I ever was when I was in high school.  
     Now for the rest of the story. My friend and I went out on one date, and one date only. I kept going over to their house, but the colonel never again intervened.
     What a lousy wing man!