Saturday, March 02, 2013

When your girlfriend's father HATES you

From time to time I've been featuring excerpts from my book about growing up in the San Fernando Valley -- THE ME GENERATION... BY ME (available here.. PLEASE BUY IT). One prompted a comment from fellow classmate Alexis along with a request:

contrary to what you remember, I remember thinking you were cute, funny, and...well, cute and funny will have to suffice.

You should relate the "Helene" story...

I'll settle for cute and funny. Here's the "Helene" story.  Remember names have been changed to protect me from physical abuse.

My actual dating life wasn’t much to speak of. I thought there was some promise with Helene Papadakis but that didn’t turn out swimmingly. A good start though. I took her to see “Thunderball” and then Bob’s Big Boy. She let me put my arm around her during the underwater fight sequence. She ate a French fry off my plate (always a sign of intimacy). And at her front door – the BIG moment – she let me kiss her goodnight. It was not a big kiss mind you. And lips only. But it wasn’t the handshake and “I had a really fun time, thank you” and the subtle door slam.

I was so confident I called her for a second date on Monday. Usually I needed at least three weeknights to get up the courage. She accepted and all was right with the world.

But on date #2 I met her father. These are always awkward encounters. They look at you like you’re going to knock up their daughter, get her hooked on heroin, and coerce her into joining a cult. We are always assuring them that we’re really nice young men, we wouldn’t dream of touching their daughter (much less do any of the things we fantasize about while masturbating nightly to them), and we all want to be astronauts. Still, I sensed a hatred that went beyond mere suspicion and apprehension. I started getting the vibe of Jew Hater.

Helene and I were hitting it off though, so I chose to rationalize that he wasn’t anti-Semitic, he just preferred suitors of any other religion in the world. On date #3 I drove her home (arriving safely before the midnight curfew), kissed her goodnight, got back into my 1960 Comet, turned on the ignition… and the car wouldn’t start. Shit. Probably a dead battery but maybe I had flooded the engine. So I waited five minutes, tried again, and still nothing. I went back to the house, tapped lightly on Helene’s bedroom window, and told her I needed to use the phone to call the Auto Club. She let me in but by now was wearing a bathrobe. Nothing sheer, just a big comfy terrycloth robe. I called the AAA and we sat in the kitchen waiting for the tow truck. About five minutes later her dad entered the room and almost had a seizure. There was his daughter in a state of disrobe (even though she WAS wearing a robe) with this…this… red sea pedestrian!! I hastily explained why I was there, trying desperately not to use any Yiddish expressions. Finally, I said, “My battery is dead” and he snarled, “It better be!”

With that he dashed out to the car and told me to start it up. I turned the key just praying it wouldn’t start. Thankfully, it didn’t. He stomped off to the garage and returned a moment later with jumper cables. In short order he got my engine to turn over.

I politely thanked him very much and then he leaned into me and said, “Your fucking car is blocking my driveway.”


That was the last time I ever went out with Helene.

Now flash-forward two years.  I'm a student at UCLA.

I also took “Abnormal Psychology,” which proved helpful years later in dealing with actors. One of the assignments was to do some inappropriate behavior in public and study everyone’s reaction. This seemed stupid to me. You knew what their reaction was going to be. Based on the behavior, either anger or discomfort. So I figured, if I’m going to do this pointless exercise I might as well have a little fun with it.

So I put on a jacket and tie, grabbed my trusty broken briefcase, and set out once again to sell Amway products.

Except, this time at 11:00 at night.

Knowing that homeowners would be furious, I figured why go door-to-door and disturb them? I didn’t have to repeat this behavior twenty times. I really only had to do it once. So I got in my car, headed to one house in particular, marched up to the front door, and at about 11:30 rang the bell.

Helene’s anti-Semite dad answered the door and was practically apoplectic when he saw me. I launched right into my pitch. “Hi, there, Mr. P. Sorry to bother you so late but I’m trying to make as much money as I can. I really love money. And I have two other jobs, because like I said – I really love money. So could I show you some miracle products that…?”

I think that’s as far as I got. He literally chased me off the property. Mission and assignment accomplished.


RJ Hope said...

Lol! Love it! You handled it brilliantly.

sanford said...

I am guessing you haven't talked to Helene in all the years since. It would be interesting to hear her reaction.

Cap'n Bob said...

I had the opposite problem. The fathers liked me but the daughters didn't. And don't read more into that than I meant.

Mac said...

Hah! That's funny. Reminds me of that Woody Allen movie where he's a dinner guest and he's convinced the old woman talking to him hates Jews, then it cuts back to Woody with ringlets and a big beard.

Harold X said...

I don't see anything in the story -- as you tell it here, at least -- to indicate that your religion/ethnicity was what he didn't like about you. Anything more specific (get outta here, you effin' ----," for instance, would have been a solid indication)?

Johnny Walker said...

Classic story!

By Ken Levine said...

A number of years ago I bumped into Helene's sister. I said I always had the impression her dad was anti-semetic and she said, "Oh yeah." I wasn't wrong.

DrBOP said...

Wow.....a Comet huh?
Pegged you for a Corvair kind of guy.

Wallis Lane said...

Since her real name was Helene Himmler, you should have considered yourself properly warned.

This comment has been removed by the author.

A tale most divine, Mr. Levine.

Mrs. H. is asleep sooooooo moi can tell this one.
Just before high school graduation I was offered a position, as a Summer Aid, with United States Army Crops Of Engineers. Being a tremendous underachiever this shocked moi greatly!
Anywho, I got the job...did well...made Lock Operator...was transfered to
[no longer in operation] Lock & Dan 13 on the Ohio.
At the end of me first day, the crew were gathered before departure at the break-table, the Lock Master, Don Wamsley, gazed at moi and spake thus
"I guess we got ourselves a Jew boy."

Well.....everyone looks at me...after a bit of confusion...I realized he was speaking of myself.
Then (I soooo wish I'd have been as cool as Chaplin 'twere when the Nazi said he was Jewish) I most truthful answered
"I'm not Jewish, we're Methodists."

(Even though I quit going to church at age twelve and had been a Buddhist since age thirteen, I thought...I'm getting this
on a Federal job from a bunch of WW II vets who NEVER added an anese to any word sooooooo I best keep any
non-Judeo-Christian facts under wraps)

Upon hearing me wee retort, the next youngest guy there, a Vietnam vet, spewed coffee out of his nose and laughed most intensely.
Oh, what does this have to do with dating?
Oh yeah, my high school best friend's sister, who I went out with a couple of times, wrote a book entitled "Tenney's Landing."
Now this leads to the time when Keven just became a Jesus Freak and he talked moi into pulling off the road, just north of Carmichaels, PA., to go to Holy Roller Tent Meeting.
Now that's a story!

Oh, her dad & mom seemed to like, @ least not hate, me.

Okay, just be glad I ain't there 'cause I can talk off an ear
and this tale leads to sooooo many mo'.

BTW Mrs. H & moi really dig "Frazier" but find Hallmark's fear of any vocalization a la derrière
to be a bit silly, but...that's show biz.

Stay on groovin' safari,

Ron said...

I read somewhere that a Cleveland NBC station subsituted a Matlock movie for the repeats of Office and Law and Order SVU and an episode of 1600 Penn. It seemed to do ok.

Jeffrey Mark said...

Love the Comet automobile - great model with what was left with the fins look on cars. I would love to find one in good condition. They lasted a pretty long time.

I only dealt with the mother's of the many Jewish girls I dated in high school - 72-74. Never met the father's, it was weird. And the mothers were all pretty cool about me dating their daughters. But the fathers...rarely saw them.

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