I’m not the only one who finds this creepy right?
I’m not even talking of the vicarious masculinity thing some fathers have going on with their son’s sexual exploits, but the whole “that is MY daughter!” thing.
I’m also sympathetic to not wanting your daughter to be taken advantage of by a slimeball, or not wanting to be saddled with raising a grandchild.
Yes, it’s creepy. Sure, you don’t want to think about your kid having sex any more than your kid wants to think about you having sex. And I can’t really blame a man for having slightly different attitudes about it with his daughter than with his son (because girls ARE more likely to be hurt emotionally by having sex), but taken to any extreme at all, and being all proud of your stupid attitude (“haw haw haw, my daughter isn’t going to date until she’s 30! I have a shot gun! I’m a big man and I run shit!”) is creepy and annoying.
Quick question, do you have children?
It’s creepy for sure! The Purity Myth by Jessica Valenti talks about some of the subcultures where this gets taken to extremes (she talks about how in some Christian communities it’s common for the daughter to take a “purity vow” along with her father – the daughter agrees not to have sex until marriage and the father agrees to “guard her virginity”, ie keeping the boys away). In those cases it’s really clear that the father acts basically like a surrogate husband to his daughters until they actually marry. That’s the role the fathers see themselves in. I wonder if it’s sort of an extension of that role that happens in mainstream culture too.
EDIT: Full disclosure, I don’t just not have kids; I am young and living with my parents. Guess what - my dad never did this macho protective thing, and in fact really likes my boyfriend and treats him with respect instead of like he’s an aggressor and a competitor. And I turned out just fine.
I have a son, I get not wanting your teenager to have sex but there is a point you have to let go.
I wouldn’t say creepy, and generally pretty benign - but it can get to a level where it’s blatantly mysoginistic. Sleeping with people you regret sleeping with is a part of life. Women have just as much a right to do that, and fuck up royally, as men do. God forbid a woman has to experience hurt feelings. :rolleyes: I generally think teenaged girls are the ones who should be deciding whether they are ready for sex or not, and with whom. In a way it’s like the father is claiming ownership over the daughter’s body. And that’s not okay.
ETA: I can already tell this is going to be the biggest difference between me and my husband’s parenting styles. I am much more liberal on this topic than he is.
As a man, I know from personal experience what uncouth horndogs teenage boys can be. It’s really as simple as that.
I agree generally with this analysis: generally benign but it can get to a level where it’s not.
It’s true that sleeping with people you regret is a part of life – just like so many other things are. Parenting is the high-wire act of simultaneously wanting to shield your child from all harm and recognizing that a child shielded from all harm growing up will be a child raised like a vealcalf, utterly unable to cope with the real world.
Drawing the line in the right place – and knowing that the right place is different when your child is eight, than when ten, than when twelve, than when fourteen, etc., is one key to being a good parent.
I have a son but no daughter. I have no problems imagining ensuring my hypothetical twelve- or fourteen- year old daughter doesn’t sleep with someone she regrets. Trying to ensure my seventeen year old daughter doesn’t make that mistake would have to happen by ensuring that she learned, as a twelve year old, to be confident, educated about her body, and to hold herself in high esteem. But ultimately, at that age, the chips will fall where they fall.
But mothers usually know just as well about how teenage boys act, and we also know what it’s like to be the one being pressured. And still we don’t usually take the attitude about it that fathers often do.
This is very reasonable.
The time to make sure your daughter makes good decisions is well before the time she starts thinking about dating. When she’s two and playing with her dolls, when she’s four and you’re watching Disney films over and over, when she’s six and starting to deal with people at school.
Those are the times to reinforce her self image, to show her that she doesn’t need anyone to validate her, and to model “normal” relationships.
Then you can let her go and hope fo rthe best.
I think this hits the nail on the head, but I’d go further. In line with DrFidelus I’d say all children need to be primed about relationships (and sex) from a very young age. The more they know the better and more informed decisions they can take.
You can never insulate them totally from making bad decisions but you can certainly give them a bit of a head start.
Novelty Bobble: father of young son and daughter, oracle of all relationship advice they need and provider of all the cuddles they may need when it goes pear-shaped anyway.
Well isn’t everything men do creepy? It all has kind of underlying sexual motivation. And if you think what we do with our own children is creepy, just wait till you leave yours alone with one of us for 5 minutes.
Generally I would agree with this, but as a high school teacher I’ve had one or two kids each year (of both genders) where if my son/daughter brought them home, it’d be an issue. Every once in a while you get a kid who is manipulative in a way that I think is beyond a normal teenager’s ability to comprehend. I don’t know what you do in those cases, since “No you cannot date him(her). He(she) is a sociopath” is unlikely to be effective. But I’d do something.
Diogenes The Cynic.
Otherwise reasonable people are taken in by manipulators all the time, in every phase of life. I strongly disapproved of some of my older daughter’s dates in High School, but there are some things she needed to learn herself.
Protecting her included giving her the tools to pick herself up after a bad experience. She learned from every relationship she has had, and has made very mature decisions in that area since getting to college.
Not all teenage boys are uncouth horndogs. It makes sense that fathers who have been “uncouth horndogs” would be over protective, but if anything, it makes those fathers even creepier, since you know what kind of man they used to be.
Now that I’ve had my coffee:
I think the thing that is really disturbing about the “she can’t date until she’s 30” crowd is that it carries the implication that sex is inherently degrading for a woman. Under this worldview, sex is something women do as a favor for men, degrading and humiliating themselves as a gift because they are willing to be shamed to give him pleasure. Men with this worldview can be weirdly respectful towards their wives because they feel grateful that she will do something for him that he cannot conceive of ever doing for someone else. Marriage is the proper framework for this “gift” and gives it respectability. They are often scornful towards more casual sexual partners they have had because in that context “giving” sex is seen as holding yourself too cheaply. Men with this worldview get really upset if they get hit on by another man, because, again, being treated as a woman–as something to be penetrated–is shameful. These are also the men that, when talking about male-on-male rape are emphatic that they would never tell anyone. To be fucked is to be soiled; it’s appropriate for a woman to tolerate it, but never more than that.
For me, when it gets really skeevy is when a man goes out of his way to comically deny that his grown, married, mother-of-three daughter has ever had sex. I mean, I don’t talk about my sex life with my dad, but I don’t have to avoid even the appearance of having one. I’ve known grown women who do, though, and I think that’s really weird.
I’m not sure I understand the OP. Is the very notion of wanting to protect your daughter creepy, regardless to the degree of severity? Is it specific to sex?
Not all of them have to be.
No, that’s just you.