Now at first, maybe you think that going to the gynecologist would be a problematic errand for me, what with me being so virile and all, but I assure you I have no problem with it at all, despite the fact that my daughter looked at me all eye-rolly and was like "This is weird.". The good thing about the gynecologist is I get to go there and disprove the long-standing myth that all men but me have that gynecologists' offices are filled with whores. Either Herpes-riddled STD super-whores or just plain-old knocked-up whores or just can't-get-over-themselves vaginally obsessed regular whores. Well, I don't think that at all. And I was going there to disprove that terrible, terrible, probably not even half-true stereotype, because I am a huge supporter of Women's Lib. So long as "lib." is an abbreviation for "liberally dispensing blowjobs". (*waits for rimshot. looks around. hits frying pan with spatula.*)
Okay, so my daughter's trepidation is growing and she's all anxious looks and stomach holding so I decide to be smart and super-supportive and address her concerns, because if you've ever had a teen daughter you know the very best way to address uncomfortable issues with them is to be direct and loud. That never causes any problems. So I'm all "What? You think I'M afraid of the gynecologist? I'm not! I've been here before! If anything, that gynecologist is afraid of ME!" and she's all "Please stop talking." and I'm all "I should march right in there and pants him for being such a pervert who has to look at vaginas all day to be happy!" and she's all "Oh my God. I'm going to throw up." and I'm all "HOLY SHIT!!! He's probably into kiddie porn too!" and then she started crying so I knew I had reached her. A father's work is never done.
And then we got to the office, and I was quiet and super-behaved because even though I like to play a loud game, embarrassing my already wonderfully high-strung daughter is NOT my idea of a good time, and the only thing that happened was she leaned over while we were waiting and said "Everyone in this waiting room probably thinks you knocked me up and you're some super-gross lecherous pervert." to which I burst out laughing and everyone looked at me and shot me the stink-eye because I guess laughing anywhere devoted to vaginas is illegal or bad form or something, and even the lady with the sweatpants and the giant camel toe was giving me dirty looks and I don't know for sure, but I don't think "If you got it, flaunt it!" applies to the pussy doctor.
So we stopped for breakfast on the way home and sat and talked about her going to college in two years, and my heart broke like it does every time I think about that, but luckily there were plenty of warm muffins and Cafe Mochas to fill in the cracks, and then she said "That wasn't so bad." which as a father, is my longterm goal for her childhood to begin with, so I win.