My father is a brilliant man. He is wise, passionate and brimming with self-confidence. I find his dedication to his field awe-inspiring and only hope that one day I will find something that I love as much as he does. He is a great mentor, and a great friend to me. The one issue we disagree on is that of one's personal life. In other words... he hates all my boyfriends.
I suppose I'd better mention the key element to mine and my Dad's relationship... he lives 10562 miles (16997 km) away in Sydney, Australia. Since I was 10, we have evolved a somewhat complicated, but surprisingly close relationship over email, facebook and now skype. It is amazing the things that you can confide when typing. This has meant he has very little control or say in who I date, but it doesn't stop him offering his opinion.
Over the years, there have only been a few guys who I've dared to introduce him to on his trips to the UK. Each of which as soon as they walked through the door I'd see that look and know the poor guy didn't stand a chance! As soon as the usually gangly adolescent was out of ear-shot I'd get the same line... "He's a wounded bunny Annie, you always pick the wounded bunnys but you can't fix this one... He's got reaaaallll issues!". Annoyingly, it would usually turn out that he was right. This would shortly be followed by "You need to spend some time being single, get to know yourself, don't get caught up in relationships."
However, what my Dad doesn't realise is that these are not the only guys I've dated and that in the past I spent plenty of time enjoying the freedom of being single, usually while not single. Due to the self-constructed safety boundaries of the Internet I've managed to construct this image of a nun-like village girl, having had only 2-3 boyfriends, when in reality that couldn't be further from the truth! Now I'm not accusing myself of being a mega-slut-atron here, but let's just say I've had my fair share.
As my friends all know, in the past I had issues with being faithful. It wasn't something I was proud of, I just felt no guilt and so felt I must be some sort of robot. As it happens I've met a wonderful man, who despite my insistence that I will be unfaithful, insists that I won't and refuses to not give me a chance. This is turn has somehow resulted in us being 10 months down the line and me without another man in sight. It's fantastic! I have no idea how he's done it but I'm cured of my immoral disease!
I've decided to bring said saint home to Australia to meet my Dad. This may be a hideous mistake or a stroke of genius, if he can cure me maybe he can win over the Dad?
All I really need to work out now is how to explain to my Dad how unique and special this man is without shattering his image of his nun-like daughter...
