Eight simple workarounds
for W. Bruce Cameron's eight simple rules

My poor cousin Tony. He's 19 and so clueless I can only hope he's doing drugs. I've been meaning to take him aside and counsel him about women, but then there must be millions of guys like Tony out there. Why not help them all?

Once again, this column works as a public service. Dating rules for boys, if you will.

Thing is, I don't really remember what it was like to be 19. I wish I did. I'd kill for premature ejaculation. What to do, what to do?

Fortunately, a colleague, W. Bruce Cameron, has come to my rescue. He wrote a column called "Eight Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughters" that has since become the title of his best-selling book, as well as a TV series on ABC starring John Ritter. All I have to do is figure out a way around those rules, and Tony should be in like Flynn.

Probably not, but it's likely better than what Tony's been doing and it's a damn fine column idea.

Let's tackle these rules one at a time:

Rule One:

If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure as heck not picking anything up.

Workaround One:

This definitely works in Tony's favor, since he doesn't own a car. All Tony has to do is watch 17 reruns of "Leave It To Beaver." Study Eddie Haskel -- his style, his vocal inflections, his mannerisms. Sure, parents never really buy into this phoniness, but they really don't know what to do about it either. After all, the manners are pristine.

Rule Two:

You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Workaround Two:

Again, this is very easy and ties into Workaround One. Just wait until you get out of the house. Five blocks from the house.

Rule Three:

I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, In order to assure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric staple gun and fasten your trousers securely in place around your waist.

Workaround Three:

Wear a long overcoat and cinch that baby tight. Just make sure it's not a black trench coat, or he'll think you're in the Colorado Mafia. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. "But what if it's in the middle of summer and it's 102 degrees outside?" Just wear the fuckin' coat. After all, you're going ice skating -- the safest date known to mankind.

Rule Four:

I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I WILL kill you.

Workaround Four:

Do you see a pattern here? You've got to get the fuck away from this guy. Don't worry. It's not as hard as you think. Most of us have avoided John Ritter for years.

Rule Five:

In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."

Workaround Five:

If you want to stay out until 10 p.m., tell him you'll have her back at 11. If he says, no, I want her in the house by 10, then bring her back by 9. Whatever the time limit is, make the delivery an hour earlier. That is, unless you decide you don't want to go on a second date. If so, you can bring her back the next day.

Rule Six:

I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make YOU cry.

Workaround Six:

Don't make her cry, dude. Just don't. If you want to get rid of her, just tell her you love her and suggest the most repulsive sex act you can think of. Most likely, she will then dump you. If she doesn't, then why in the hell do you want to get rid of her?

Rule Seven:

As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process which can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Workaround Seven:

Always carry a cell phone and make sure to arrive on time at a park near her house. Call at 15-minute intervals until she tells you she's been waiting in the living room for ten minutes now. Remember. You can never pull off an Eddie Haskell impersonation for more than ten minutes.

Rule Eight:

The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places lacking parents, policemen, or nuns. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her chin. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chainsaws are okay. Hockey games are okay.

Workaround Eight:

Here's where your past pays off for you. Like all of your dates, you'll be taking her for beer in the park. Just tell Ritter you're going ice skating. That'll explain the chillly hands when you bring her back home.

And those hands will be chilly, dear cousin. Because you ain't getting laid for sure, rules or no rules.

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own. Copyright 2002 by Mike Jasper.