Don’t Hate Her Because She’s Beautiful


My daughter is a pretty girl who will grow into a beautiful young woman. I don’t know if she’ll be a beautiful booth babe at nerd conventions or a beautiful police officer stepping on necks (I know which one I’d prefer). But she will be beautiful.

Of this I am certain.

I think of this while writing this column in a local coffee shop. The counter girl is beautiful. I start thinking about that word – beautiful – so I start thinking about my daughter. Some things are easier for the beautiful people in the world. People seem to be nicer to beautiful people. Beautiful people probably have an easier time getting into jobs and out of traffic tickets. (I’m sure there are studies that support those statements, but I’m not going to look them up.)

Some things are harder for beautiful people. They have to be. Right? I wouldn’t know, but I’m sure beautiful people – girls especially – have their intelligence questioned and their confidence mistaken as vanity.

the girls at the high school cafeteria table may be just as puzzled when she pulls out a dog eared copy of The Dark Knight instead of whatever the hell high school girls are supposed to read

So what does that mean to me, the average-looking geek dad of a future red headed, geek beauty?

It means I know what’s in store for her.

Some men look for women who will go to ballgames with them. Others hope for a hard drinker who can keep up with them at the pub. If you’re reading this column, chances are you’re looking for that special gal who looks great and can also quote lines from Grandma’s Boy while wearing Green Lantern panties (you sick bastards).

It’s like finding a perfectly cooked rib eye steak that also cures heart disease. It’s not supposed to exist.

And that’s how I know my daughter will be made an object of extreme curiosity to the men who assume she knows nothing of comic books or video games. These fanboys will be either scared or smitten when she tells them that her comic book collection reaches back years before her birth. And the girls at the high school cafeteria table may be just as puzzled when she pulls out a dog eared copy of The Dark Knight instead of whatever the hell high school girls are supposed to read.

And, if I raise her right, she will know how to respond when some jerk says something stupid. How do I know? Because I was once that jerk, and a woman of great confidence and grace called me on it.

She’s a bartender at my local gin mill and she is certifiably beautiful. The first time I met her she mentioned that she played video games.

“What, like Tetris or Words with Friends,” I asked.

“No, more like Knights of the Old Republic and Skyrim,” she deadpanned.

She immediately put me in my place, making me feel as stupid as the question I forced her to endure.

We’ve become good friends since then. We swap stories and parenting tips. I’ve met her husband and kids. She could have never known in that moment that she taught me a great lesson about this great responsibility of mine. I never thanked her for that. I hope she reads this and realizes that, thanks to her, I’ll be ready when my geek girl grows into a geek woman.

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