MY DAUGHTER’S FIRST DATE: IT FREAKED ME OUT!

I never thought I'd have to have to deal with this!

I have to state this right up front…I do NOT have a natural-born daughter. I have two sons, for which I’m grateful for a number of reasons. But for six months in 1997, I was a father to a young exchange student from Norway who was the closest I’d ever get to having one.

Therese Murberg came to live with my family in January 1997 and finish her senior high school year after five months with Arizona hosts that were entirely unsuited to host her.

We spent our first months with her showing the best that Southern California has to offer, from Santa Barbara to San Diego (and even an adventure across the Mexican border to Ensenada). Therese became one of the family and we’d also become close to another exchange student, Russian Natalya Berdikyan, who was staying nearby with friends of ours who also agreed to host a mid-year transfer.

When they weren’t spending time together in person, Therese and Natalya would chat online, a relatively new phenomenon that had replaced the telephone as a preferred means of communication (this was before texting by phone had become available to us). What surprised and concerned me a bit was discovering they were not only chatting with each other, but with strangers they had met online.

From my Journal, March 2, 1997:

After dinner tonight I drove Natalya back to Jennifer’s after she and Therese had spent hours gabbing with boys on the internet. It’s the new boob tube, replacing television as entertainment. No idea who these boys are…it seems all parties can remain anonymous online.

Over ensuing evenings, I knew Therese was enjoying her conversing online and didn’t think much of it, until one night I was faced with something that hit me like a ton of bricks (not sure if that’s an idiom which has a Norwegian equivalent).

March 5, 1997:

Later tonight Therese asked me if she could go out on a date Friday, to a dance in town with a high school boy she’s been talking to over the internet. I was taken by surprise with this one --- feeling much older all of the sudden, not expecting a question like this for many more years if at all, given that I have boys! After putting on my thoughtful cap, I told Therese it would be okay if I first spoke to the boy’s parents, meet the boy when he picks her up, and if she goes with a friend. Natalya was Therese’s choice, and I had a laugh with Jennifer over the phone (Jennifor Assor was Natalya’s host mother), who went through the same odd reactions I did when she was asked permission by Natalya. I’m glad I don’t have daughters.

A phone call with the boy’s parents took place the next evening. Though they lived in the middle of Los Angeles in an area with which I wasn’t familiar. I felt comfortable enough with their assurances that their son was a “good boy” and they’d never had a problem with him. Was I being naïve?

The big night arrived and the girls’ anticipation was palpable. Again, it was nothing I had expected to experience in my life. Knowing what teenage boys are like, I was being an overly protective dad, which frustrated Therese and Natalya. No teenage girl, then or now, wants their “Dad” to drive them to their date’s house, much less meet the boy. But I was in effect a legal guardian, and that responsibility was weighing on me as well.

March 7, 1997:

Friday. The girls’ big night arrived. After dinner I drove back into town with Therese and Natalya to drop them off at the high school dance they were invited to by a boy Therese met on the internet. Natalya’s counselor at Jennifor Assor’s request insisted I drive them there rather than let the boy pick them up here; Natalya told me Jennifer would not have let her go at all if she knew the dicey area the school was located.

I met the young man and thought he was very nice. Respectful. Driving off alone on my way home after that felt strange. I was trying not to be a worry wart.

Home in time to turn right around and head to Barbata’s with Elf for dancing. She was more nervous than I about the girls’ safety; it felt like our own child’s very first date and there’d be no scenario where that wouldn’t feel a bit nerve-racking for us. Sometime after midnight Therese and Natalya were dropped off and joined us at our table. Wasn’t able to get too much detail, but they said they had a good time (not a wild & crazy time). I wasn’t going to pry; they were both already frustrated that I had inserted myself into the evening’s planning and the bottom line was that they were back with us safely.

Foreign exchange students Therese (center) and Natalya (right) with Elfreda at the Farmer’s Market in Los Angeles, 1997 (above)

Was I being an overprotective father? I don’t know. I can’t say I’d do anything differently today (other than a tracking device on my daughter’s phone)!

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