Sure, your daddy loves you. He wants the best for you. But if he knew how you were trashing his name, he’d cry.
You flirt and tease and push the limits with guys all day, but when you think it might catch up with you, you invoke the name of daddy. He’s your reason for the puritanical behavior under which your hypocrisy masquerades. In his name you safely hide from from the wages of your whorishness.
Give me a wink. Play-fight with me over this post, then grow offense when you realize how true it is. Throw a few toothless insults, then run to the waiting ever-ignorant love-handle of daddy. Let his shirt soak up your tears and his credit card shield your head as you wonder why such a wonderful girl is thirty and still single.