Electra Goes A-dancing.
The attire was semi-formal which made me semi-confused. I consulted the Almighty Internets and found that 'semi-formal' semi-confused everyone so at least I didn't feel semi-stupid and semi-confused. Apparently, the attire for a semi-formal event was strictly a suit and tie...no, it was a pair of nice slacks, shirt and tie...no, it was just a pair of slacks and a nice shirt. Ugh. Near as I can figure out, semi-formal seemed to mean 'dress nicely for the event you're going to'. Fantastic. Except that no list of semi-formal events included a Father-Daughter Dance. Though some websites apparently treat "Father+Daughter+Dance" as a euphemism.
The day of the dance arrived and I chose to wear a full suit and my daughter wore something pink with little flowers on it and a huge grin. I saw to my great relief that every father there was just as semi-confused as I was. Each took the advice of a different website and we all looked decidedly mish-mosh. It was easy to guage what every father wore because they were all backed against the walls watching their daughters dance in a flurry of pink and white in the center of the room. If someone were to be on the roof looking down at us, we would resemble a flower with black petals and a round pink center.
About a half-hour into the event, all the daughters began pulling their fathers onto the dance floor by applying liberal amounts of brute force and guilt. (Surprising how early in life girls learn this, eh?) With horror on every fathers's face (including mine), we all looked for an escape.....and found one! Each of our wives had charged us with getting a photo taken with our daughter. Normally fathers hate to be photographed almost as much as we hate to wait in lines, but a drowning man will grab for anything that floats and every father suddenly got in line for photographs.
That was the slowest line I've ever been in. And the most blissful.
The night ended and we carted our tired daughters back home. All of us fathers wore a wistful smile because, despite our clever ploy of waiting in line to avoid dancing, most of us still danced at least one slow dance with our daughters. I could spend a lot more time describing the emotions of it, but instead I'll point you at a current song that we danced to that night called 'Stealing Cinderella'. It fits. We were all thinking of that day when a strange man would ride in and steal our Cinderella and it made us really grok the whole point of the Father-Daughter dance.
The whole experience made me realize just how very lucky I am; I'll never have to go to a Mother-Son dance.