Memories of Prom

I just received pictures of my niece posing in the front yard of her house before prom last weekend. She looked so pretty in a stunning vintage green gown. The more I looked at the photo, the older I felt, but I also I sensed a strange mix of reflective excitement, embarrassment and revulsion as it brought back memories of my own proms over two decades ago.

It was the spring of 1982.

Nearly at the end of my sophomore year in high school, I still hadn’t been asked out on a date, which was kinda rare, even for a goofy girl like me.

But then, one day between lunch and 5^th period, a group of snickering boys handed me a note at my locker. Stunned, I waited and opened the note in class under my desk. It was from a Junior who I didn’t know. The thought that any boy had his eye on me was pretty exciting, much less a Junior. In the note, he asked if I wanted to go to the movies with him that weekend.

I could barely listen to the teacher. As soon as the bell rang, I leaped across the hall to my best friend’s locker, and digging my nails into her arm, I nervously broke the news, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, you’re not going to believe this…”

During our regular two-hour phone call that evening, my best friend and I separately researched the mystery Junior. We looked him up in our yearbooks, and although I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t look like the man of my dreams, at least we could determine that he wasn’t too ugly. We decided that, in light of the fact that I had never had a boyfriend or date, I should accept his offer.

The next day I passed the note back to the giggling group of boys, and before I knew it, the mystery Junior was at my locker. He was thin with weird wavy hair that formed a banana curl all around his head. His skin was not the best, but he seemed to have a good group of friends and was on the varsity basketball team.

The night of the date, he picked me up in the family sedan and drove us in anxious silence to the movie theater. “Chariots of Fire” was playing, and although I sat through the whole movie with my eyes glued to the screen, I do not remember one second of the film. I was extremely nervous, and acutely aware that he was inching his arm behind my head and onto my shoulder.

After the movie, we went to Dairy Queen, and then back to his brick ranch, where we made out on the couch in his rec room. It seemed like one minute I was not making eye contact with him, and the next minute we were awkwardly kissing. Despite the many times I practiced this moment on my hand, I could have never imagined what it would be like with all that real-life slobber.

As he was taking me home in the sedan, he asked if I would go to the upcoming prom with him. Like a robot programmed for the appropriate response, I said, “OK.” The prom was two months away.

The Junior was happy with his choice, but I felt nothing. I wondered if this was the way everyone felt, and forced myself to play the role of his date to the upcoming prom. He started a routine of meeting me at my locker after lunch. I soon found that I was a little queasy every day and could not finish my meal. Three weeks into the relationship, I had lost 8 pounds.

The Junior was even happier with my shrinking waistline, and started showing up at my house unannounced. When I saw him, my stomach would jump and I felt a little sick.

I wondered if this was what crushes felt like, and if it was, what was all the fuss about?

My mother sent away to my aunt for a home-sewn white dress with tiered bands of pink ribbon around the waist and skirt. I told the Junior that I was wearing pink and white, and although he showed up on prom night with a humongous pink corsage to match my dress, he was wearing a cream colored three piece suit with flared pant legs and at least a dozen brass buttons. I was mortified.

I tried to swallow bites of chicken cordon bleu in the ballroom of our town’s country club, but I couldn’t get much down. On the dance floor, the Junior seemed oblivious to my unease, and tried several times to kiss me. I just couldn’t take slobber with all this nausea, so I did everything I could to avoid his face. By the end of the night, all of the Junior’s friends were displaying major public affection, and all he could get out of me was a peck or two.

At an after-prom party at the local Elks club, he made a last ditch effort, coming at me with a full-on open mouth. I couldn’t take it any more. It dawned on me that, even though I really wanted to like this guy, I just didn’t and never would. I yelled, “You’re acting like I’m your girlfriend or something, but I am definitely NOT!”

That was all I had to say. He grabbed my hand, led me out to the car, and drove me home in the same nervous silence we had on our first date. I never spoke to him again.

Over the years, I’ve felt a little guilty that I ruined this poor boy’s prom. But on the other hand, he assumed this risk when he decided to date a total novice like me. And besides, who wears a cream colored three piece suit?

[I contacted my best friend from high school, and she is currently attempting to unearth photographs of our high school proms. If she finds any, they will be posted. Stay tuned for my Junior year story: “The Duke and Duchess of Prom.” Coming soon!]