I'll never grow up

I'm not saying it defiantly, like "I refuse to acknowledge the natural process of aging and will demonstrate it by wearing inappropriately ridiculous clothing, buying a sports car, playing with toys or otherwise acting out, damn it". I mean, I do buy and play with toys, but just because it's fun, not as some kind of statement. No, rather I'm resigned to the fact that I will never really ever be the standard archetype of patriarchal authority figure that is so commonly associated with the word "man". I'm not really sorry about it either. There are so many ways that I'm Not Like The Other Boys that I'm losing count and I simply don't care anymore. I'm just stating facts. And as is the case with most facts, there is evidence to back it up.

I recently did some work for the father of a friend of mine (by the way, I can do some work for you too; just go here to hire me) which turned me instantly into a 15-year-old and I addressed him as Mister followed by his last name. Not only a 15-year-old, but apparently a 15-year-old from the 1950s; "Gee Mr. Williams, you sure got a swell home here!" My friend asked me why I would do such a thing. "Why would you do such a thing?", she asked. She doesn't understand that there is a tiny gland in my brain whose sole purpose is when confronted with interacting with a girl's father under any circumstances to secrete a potent cocktail of pubescent hormones that make me automatically call him Mister. It also causes my voice to crack and a sudden breakout of acne. Plus, I could be wrong about this, but I'm pretty sure that if I'm meeting him for the very first time I actually shrink an inch or two. "Well, what did you expect me to do?", I answered her in the form of a question. I tried to explain that I couldn't just assume instant familiarity: "Well, hiya Jeff! How's it hangin', man? Hey, is your daughter home? What's that? Why yes, I am a douchebag!" "You do know his name isn't Jeff, right?", she asked and I answered that it didn't matter because his name was Mister Her Dad as far as I was concerned. I told her that in these situations while it is possible to start out stiff and formal and gradually work your way into a casual relationship, it absolutely can not work the other way. Especially if he kills you. She rolled her eyes and walked away. I didn't know how else to explain it without role playing the situation with Indiana Jones and Batman action figures, which I just happen to own more than enough of to do so effectively.