Prom Day 2
More prom stories!
The topic of today’s prom blog is the embarrassments suffered at the hands of…well, whoever at the prom. Prom was an interesting time for me, because, well, not only did I not have a date until very near the time when tickets became unavailable, but I…didn’t have a car. What’s more, I…didn’t even have a driver’s license.
You see, my dad had some strict rules about my GPA vs. my driving privileges. Yah, well, I was certainly smart enough, but I was all like tchah! Homey don’t play that! I’ll show you! So, I never got the grades, and Dad never caved. Needless to say, I didn’t get my license until after high school. The problem as you have probably realized by now, is that prom was not after high school.
Shall I continue this riveting anecdote? I found out from my best friend that this beautiful girl, Leigh, did not have a date to the prom. I was really surprised because not only was Leigh fairly popular, she was really smart, really nice, and her parents were pretty well off too. At least, she lived in the area where everyone’s parents had money, and her phone number was unlisted, so that was the word on the street.
Leigh and I had a morning class together, but she had an afternoon class with Christian, and he was the one who told me that she was dateless. I’m not even sure how it came up, he just said something like, “hey I heard Leigh doesn’t have a prom date.” Acting on a surprising impulse, I asked her the next day and she said yes. I think there were about 3 sets of tickets left, so I bought them that day. The next day they were gone.
Prom came around and I had to have my mom take me to pick up the corsage, which fortunately Leigh was strong enough to lift. Fuck, I couldn’t carry that thing. It was the size of a dinner plate. As far as the driving arrangements, what I should have done is rent a limo or something, but I worked at Wendy’s and had very little cash. Lucky for me, Leigh had a car, so she picked ME up and drove us to prom. So in essence I rode ‘bitch’ and was her prom date.
At the prom, I put off dancing as long as possible, because aside from being white, I had the typical fear of dancing. I wasn’t any good at it. I’m much better now and actually enjoy it, but I’m 38 now and don’t give a fuck anymore. We got out to the dance floor, and it was sort of a slowish song, so my confidence was up.
I was so petrified though, that I didn’t realize at first that the song was “The Finer Things” by Steve Winwood. Yes, I still remember what song it was, because this song just cruises along at a nice, sedate pace, then hops into a totally different beat, which goes on for the chorus, then it slows again, then it hops back into the upbeat part, etc. Well, I didn’t know what the hell to do with that, and I’m sure my dancing really was THAT bad. I couldn’t get my groove on! She didn’t say anything, but we didn’t stay on the dance floor very long. I think it was because my skin was as red as my tie. Holy shit it was bad.
The rest of the prom itself was sort of a blur. I don’t remember the conversation, I don’t remember the dinner, I don’t remember who went with whom. Leigh took me home and we…*sigh*…stayed dressed. What?