I attended my first-ever Daddy-Daughter Dance this past weekend. I know some fathers love these kinds of events, but I was fairly apprehensive about going.
Why? Because aside from perhaps family weddings, when does a father ever get dressed up, buy his date flowers, and go dancing without there being some kind of romantic agenda on the table?
I almost have panic attacks whenever I think back to all of those poor, unfortunate girls who danced with me at high school proms, tolerating my sweaty awkwardness as we lumbered through the long version of “The Lady in Red”.