Creepy Parent-Off: Purity Ball Dads Vs. Mama’s-Boy Moms
Dads who take their daughters to purity balls. Moms who viciously guard their precious little man from the evil women who want to steal him away from her. In the battle to be the most disturbing possible type of parent, it’s hard to say who comes out ahead, but I’ve put together a blow-by-blow comparison of who wins the Creepy Crown.
Opinions of their own gender
According to Purity Ball Dads (PBDs) who feel the need to “cover their daughters with their authority”, the men of the world are only out for one thing, and that thing is virginal teenage booty. Since these dads are, in fact, men of the world, this has some unfortunate implications about just whose “purity” it really is that needs protection.
On the other hand, the Mama’s-Boy Moms (MBMs) have some abysmally low opinions of other women, too, especially when it comes to the ones their sons might date:
Act like a lady. Â I have raised my son to be a gentleman, and therefore, have prepared him to date a lady. Â Please refrain from using foul language, and dressing like you have a future in the sex industry. Â We don’t need the short skirt AND the belly bearing top. Â Choose one and go with it.
I’m not sure what a “belly bearing top” is. Maybe some sort of new Spanx-style shirt? But the sentiment is obvious: The girls who want to date my sons are foul-mouthed whores that I need to protect him from!
Edge: PBDs. This is almost a tie, since both PBDs and MBMs seem to think the rest of their gender is compromised of sex-crazed deviants. But the purity ball crowd edges out the competition with their obvious projection issues.
Impact on other relationships
Imagine being raised in a purity-ball family and then going to school and college with what you’ve been taught the entire male gender is: a pack of slavering wolves that can’t control themselves and will ruin your value to one of the Few Good Men out there given the slightest opportunity. Good luck not having a panic attack the first time you go on an actual date!
Then again, imagine being the daughter of the woman who wrote this about her son:
And then Macks was born. That immense love was there as soon as I saw him, but something felt different. There was this immediate bond and connection â€” something that didnâ€™t feel as powerful with the girls. … what no one warned me about [was] the deep, burning, connection that Iâ€™d feel with my son. A connection that only him and I will ever understand.
Enjoy your therapy sessions, ladies! Also, a public service announcement: if you feel a deep, burning anything/anywhere, see a doctor immediately for an appropriate course of antibiotics.
Edge: MBMs.Â You can’t claim that you don’t love your son “more, just “differently”, and then go on to rhapsodize about the more powerful bond you share with him that only he and you can ever understand.
Policing the child’s sexuality
Exhibit A on the mothers-and-sons side:
Every MBM has a seventeen-page questionnaire to eliminate
everyone strippers, gold-diggers, and Slutty McSexters from getting close to her boy. And if you manage to circumvent that, she might just murder you to keep her precious angel safe from the terrible scourge of female companionship.
Exhibit B for Team Purity Ball: the entire concept of pledging your virginity to your father for his protection. Your virginity is not something you might want your dad to hang onto for a little bit while you’re otherwise occupied; your dad can mind your purse while you use the restroom, but your hymen’s current status is another thing entirely.
Edge: PBDs, because I need to go bleach my fingers after typing the above explanation. And then my brain.
The Winner: Purity Ball Dads, who in the high stakes game of child-rearing will time and again see MBMs’ misogyny and up the ante with some seriously disconcerting interest on the contents of their daughters’ pants and promises to be the girls’ earthly “boyfriend” while they’re married to the Lord. Sorry, Mama’s-Boy Moms; thanks for playing, and better luck next time! PBDs, congratulations on your new title as Kings of Creepiness, and please enjoy our grand prize: a copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves and a vibrator for each of your daughters on their sixteenth birthday.