The Pedestal

I don’t know what made me think of it this morning, but something made me think of my dad and his gentlemanly ways.

I met my mom tonight for dinner and told her about it. He’s never been the type to ogle other women, comment on them — it’s like he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but my mom. Sure, he can differentiate between a male and a female in a room, but it’s as though that’s it. Done, period, the end.

The few times (I’m certain I can count them on one hand) he’s commented on another woman, it’s generally after my mom comments, is usually about someone from their generation — an actress or musician, and he always takes the high road. Example yonder:

Mom: “Oh, I loved watching her in movies when I was younger. She’s aged so beautifully!”

Dad: “She’s a very pretty lady.”

See? Mom first, then dad. A female of celebrity. The high road? She’s a lady — not a chick, broad, POA (does anyone’s dad say that? Wait, don’t answer…), etc.

I’ve been single for forever and a day. 98% of the time, I am more than fine with this and quite content. The other 2% of the time, when I’m ready to take in the scenery, I look around and realize that while my dad has been such an amazing father and a tremendous role model, they just don’t make ’em like they used to.

And, in a weird way, I’m thankful that they don’t. Because after having spent years with the wrong types of dudes, the one real man who measures up to my dad — full of honor, respect and who is a true gentleman — will be so easy to spot.

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