warm fuzzies

Tomorrow's my birthday. Dad said to me today, "I'm going out to dinner tomorrow night with a couple people I know. You want to come?"
"Who are you going with?"
"Oh, so'n'so, and whatsherface [I wasn't really paying attention at this point], you know, from the youth group your mom and I had."
"Uh, your youth group? If I was even alive at that point, I was an infant, so no, I don't remember."
"Well, do you want to come? It is your birthday tomorrow."
"Umm, erm, well, ehh...."
"You? Turning down dinner?"
"Ah, well, um, uhh...."
"Just tell me if you're not interested."
"I'm not interested."
"So, No, then."
"No."

Truth is, as he told me later, one of his dinner dates is trying to set him up with the other; that's why he wants me along, so it doesn't feel so much like a set-up.
That's Dad: Always thinking of me.