Dear Daddy,

I know you want me to get out more because you think I'm boring, so when Harvey sent me a text Saturday night that read, "Atkins Park, 9:30," I rolled off the couch and showered. And at 9:30 I was seated firmly on a bar stool. I did it for you, Daddy.

And that martini and those first two gin and tonics, I ordered them because I knew you would want me to have them.

And, well, the pitcher of beer that followed--liquor before beer and you're in the clear, right?

But, honest to God, Daddy, I didn't know they invited Him out too. I know you told me not to get drunk, but it doesn't count when you're shitfaced before he even arrives, does it? By the time I found out, there was nothing I could do, Daddy.

So, to review: not my fault.

And, er, he may haven taken my car keys away when I said I could "color within the lines." And he put up with me long enough for the 30 minute drive back to my place, especially when I turned up the music and sang Alice in Chains for him.

He may have spent the night, but I made him promise up and down to be a good boy. And then I broke into a fit of giggles because boys look really ridiculous wrapped in pink sheets.

And the next morning I was wishing for sweet death, Daddy. All in the name of not being boring. I was able to make it until after he drove off before I got sick in the bushes in front of my car.

When Harvey sent me another text inviting me to a barbeque, I politely declined, Daddy. You can call me boring, but I was desperately in need of a shower, some food, and a nap in that order. Especially when I had a date that night.