I went to my junior prom with the son of my mom’s friend from work.
Now that’s a mouthful and a pretty decent title for a sad, angsty coming of age movie.
But I did go to the prom with, Jon or John, I’m not sure how he spelled it because after spending one incredibly cringe-worthy night together, I never saw him again. Except at company picnics where similar to a one night stand of hot steamy sex, I pretended not to notice him.
Yes, it was like that, but without the steamy sex part and an extra dose of bad-corsages-and-strange-pictures awkward.
I’ve never asked my mom about this particular low point in my life, but I think I might need to find out how exactly this came to be.
Did I ask for someone to send out the distress call or was this some sad prop-up because my loving mother didn’t want me to miss out on the cheap bud vase with the dancing couple etched into the side?
Granted, I wasn’t exactly mainstream in high school, but I don’t remember things being that bad. I was cute, and I had excellent hair. Did no one want to take me to the prom and if that was the case, why didn’t I just rent Pretty in Pink on VHS and make brownies?
Why did I get all dressed up in that peach cloud mess for some guy I barely knew so that he could sit there all night until he decided to air guitar his way through Pour Some Sugar on Me?
I wasn’t even a prom-type girl back then. I listened to The Smiths for crying out loud. I should have been all badass and edgy, “I will not crack under the pressures of society.” Right?
Where the hell was my moxie back when I still thought blue eyeliner was a good idea?
I have a few of these look-backs in my life. Moments where I could have been different, unique, instead of falling victim to what everyone else was doing.
I suppose that’s the rearview being 20/20.
In the event I’m ever awarded a do-over, I might choose my junior prom on principle.
I would go back and remind my sixteen-year-old self that I was smart and funny, and if there wasn’t a gorgeous man-child with over-gelled hair wanting to hit the dancefloor with me, then so be it. I would tell young me with the Aqua Net bangs to revel in her female gumption and spare herself the poofy sleeves.
No girl should ever settle for a Jon/John just to say she went to some stupid dance.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Curfew.
choices courage female learning propaganda school thoughts courage culture humor life prom self expression thoughts