A word (or two) about peeing in public

When it comes to dating my daughters, I had thought that Brad and I had constructed a list of very reasonable perimeters (Note of interest that might make you giggle later:  Some of my 4th graders pronounce the term as pee-ramiters). The person of interest should insist on coming to the door, initiate parental handshakes, love the Lord, not be of a gross age, be respectful, courteous, hard-working and ambitious. Brad might add gutting deer, filleting fish, installing a steel roof as well as changing tires/oil to his criteria and I sure wouldn't slam the door in the face of a competent speller but those attributes are more negotiable. This week-end, though, really showed us how blind we truly are to the critically important traits of one's significant other. Case in point:  Where do you stand on the issue of public peeing? (Hopefully off to the side...for obvious reasons).

Sydney had joined her friend...let's call her "Pam..." for a fun night at the drive-in, along with Pam's boyfriend. When they arrived home, they pulled into the drive-way, leaving the head-beams on to illuminate their actions; allowing the girls to unload the chairs and sleeping blankets and such. Where was the boy...one might wonder. Well...let's just say that he was illuminated too. And about bursting with enthusiasm to help "unload." I watched in stupefied wonder as this young man peed feet from my bedroom window onto my tree. I experienced a stream of emotions. Should I be glad that this prize felt comfortable enough on my property to urinate with such confidence? Should I tap on my window to alert him that he wasn't alone? I didn't want to be rude. I instead tapped on my sleeping husband's shoulder. "Wha...?" he asked as I had disrupted the flow of his REM cycle. "We need to re-visit our dating perimeters," I told him firmly before asking if it would hurt my tree if I scrubbed it with bleach. "He did WHAT," Brad asked, sitting up and looking out our now darkened window. I attempted to soothe his now-frazzled nerves. "Well...it's not as bad as when that snowmobile-er took a dump in our yard three years ago." "Too bad we didn't catch his name," Brad agreed, "We could have introduced him to Pam."