Choices

A friend of mine posted this link earlier, and in an effort to avoid work for a few more minutes, I started reading...in short, the post is telling other guys to man up and, assuming they are dating the right girl, to do the right thing and ask for her hand in marriage.  It wasn't really the marriage thing that caught my eye (all things in good time, right?), it was the whole idea that threw me into a spiral of thought/emotion/reflection:

"The reason we ask for her hand is marriage is because you can’t bullshit a bullshitter. When you’re sitting across the table from a woman’s father, he knows you, he knows your tricks, and he’s been you. Asking for a hand in marriage is the ultimate litmus test of predator vs. good man, worthy of my daughter vs. worthy of my Remington, husband vs. con-man."

I was raised to be a feminist, a strong woman, an I-can-take-care-of-myself-thank-you-very-much girl.  And so I'm conflicted by my feelings.  Because having someone ask my father for my hand in marriage?  Yeah, I want that.  Having my dad walk me down the aisle?  That, too, but not because he would be giving me away to another man like a piece of property, but because I was daddy's little girl and I want him to be there for one of the most important days of my life.  I don't have a choice in the matter, so maybe that makes me want it more; maybe that's why I don't feel like having someone ask him for my hand and having him give me away flies in the face of everything feminist.  Maybe simply making that choice is what would make it less sexist.  But I don't have the choice.

In this small way, I drew the short straw.  In general, I'll shrug off the inevitable "I'm sorries" that follow when I tell someone my dad died when I was 14.  I shrug them off because I'm a lucky person and I've never doubted that.  I had 14 years with an amazing father who had a huge hand in making me the person that I am today.  There are plenty of people who aren't that fortunate.  But there are times when there is just no denying that it's just plain unfair.

What I can choose is whether or not to wallow in self-pity, or try to do something in my father's honor.  I choose the latter. 

Last year, I rode in the inaugural event of Pelotonia, a bike ride with the purpose of raising money and awareness to one day find a cure for cancer.  This year I'm riding again.  Many of my friends and co-workers, I'm sure, are tired of me begging for money; this will be the fourth time I've come to them asking for donations in five years.  I know I'm asking a lot.  But I'm only asking for a few dollars from each person.  I'm asking for a few dollars so that one less daughter will have to figure out how to define herself as father-less. 

I don't mean this as a guilt trip; we all pick the charities we are most comitted to and we all have a finite amount of money to spend.  Even if you can't donate, check out my page on Pelotonia's site because I think it's important to share why this is so important to me, that I'm not just blindly asking people for money.