Even though I love my daughter more than I can begin to express, I finally had to admit that she was a slut. There was simply no other way to look at it. It was the truth. Somehow Tammy had gotten out of control and I couldn't get her back. When I tried to talk to her, reason with her, we usually got into an argument.nnShe started hanging out with the wrong crowd a couple of years ago shortly after her mother and I divorced. The people she'd befriended over the past few years are what I call social misfits that probably have a standing reservation at the local jailhouse. Her taste in clothing changed to provocative and skimpy skirts and blouses that revealed more than I thought was appropriate. She also began staying out until the early hours of the morning and sometimes didn't come home for two or three days.nnI could have blamed the divorce on Tammy's behavior but I know now that wasn't the case. The truth is, she and her mother seldom got along, so it had nothing to do with Susan. Before the divorce, Tammy had been daddy's little girl and I think that infuriated my wife. When Teresa did leave me for another man, my daughter opted to stay with me, which wasn't all that surprising.nnI looked at the clock over the fireplace: two o'clock in the morning. Tammy had left with some friends around five in the afternoon and had promised to be back at midnight. Now two hours had passed and no Tammy. To say the least, I was pissed. Unfortunately, at least in this particular situation, I had also had too much to drink. One lesson I've learned is that it's difficult to reason with my daughter when I'm anything less than sober, and four straight scotches weren't going to help me. But I no longer cared.