I’m writing this from my phone, so bear with me. I broke my computer charger again (worst thing that has ever happened to me), so for now, my posts are going to be sparse and poorly edited.
I was thinking about my grandfather today. He’s a super cool dude, and for the most part, my main father figure growing up as my actual father abandoned me at 6 months (realistically, this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me, but it doesn’t have the same immediate consequences as an inoperable laptop, so whatever).
Gramps is a little old dude these days. He’s stodgy with his money, sometimes grouchy and very set in his ways. Though I will say, for a product of the 40s, he’s a super politically progressive guy. He likes all the boring shit that old guys are supposed to like, except sports. He doesn’t like sports.
My gramps was super important to me as a kid. He took me to the symphony and helped me on science projects. He wasn’t great with little kids, but he doted on me. He bought me my first (and second after I broke the first) Hanson albums. My bikes. My violin. Clothes. Etc.
My grandfather loves me so much that I doubt that I could even think of anything to do that would make him ashamed of me. Except maybe get a tattoo. That’s grounds for shunning.
My grandfather is a grouchy but kind, uneducated but extremely knowledgeable and old but progressive man. And, when it comes to women, my grandfather is a totaldope.
My favorite example of this is the time Gramps caught a guy in Home Depot checking me out. He turned to me and said “Did you see that?!?” I said no because I didn’t. Then he was quiet for a minute and said “Anne, boys have it pretty hard. They have to work up the nerve to ask girls out, and trust me, it’s stressful, so just do me a favor and never say no.”
Now, I knew what he meant. And I know where he’s coming from. He’s thinking about his own good intentions and kind heart when asking ladies out on a date and discounting all the creeps I would encounter in my days. He’s also trying in his own clumsy way to tell me to take it easy on boys. Or at least that’s what I’ve chosen to believe. Because, Jesus Christ, there is no way my grandfather was telling me to be a slut, right?
