Here is the final instalment of my three part series on my prom. Part 1 was My Prom Date; Part 2 was The Night Before Prom.
The limo deposits my friends, my date, and I at a fancy downtown venue. I look up at the sign, the Marlborough Hotel, and wonder why someone named a classy-enough place after a cigarette. We congregate awkwardly, trying to decide whether it’s cooler to go inside or loiter on the sidewalk. The scene bears an eerie resemblance to Crocodile Dundee arriving in New York.
Option Z is surprisingly attentive. Maybe it’s because his tall frame has a good view of my strapless cleavage. Maybe it’s because there are adults present. Maybe it’s because he’s still sober. Whatever the reason, the dinner and dance pass uneventfully. I don’t trip on my heels, my breasts stay in the dress, and my feet and I survive “Forever Young.” Even the fact that I am forced to lead doesn’t deter me.
The night at this point, however, is young, perhaps forever young. We exit the Marlborough Hotel, wave to the hookers working the other side of the street, and board a yellow school bus bound for the party site. The driver of the bus, of course, is someone I know; he is the father of Date Option Y, the shotgun boy. Does he know the chased-by-a-gun story? We nod to each other, knowingly.
The bus arrives at the party, an expansive rural property complete with a kidney-shaped pool. We disperse, I change into jeans and a t (and a bra), and I don’t see Option Z for an hour. Not until I look up to the night sky. He is standing on the roof, naked except for a pair of boxers and a daring grin. The next thing I know he is barreling off the roof toward the eight-feet-deep swimming pool. He seems suspended in mid air, resembling the wild-haired comic strip character, Calvin, without his sober sidekick, Hobbes. Miraculously, Option Z misses the cement patio and getting a Darwin Award.
For yet another hour, Option Z is AWOL. I wander around the patio and look down, into the hot tub. He is playing some serious tonsil hockey with my friend, not the one who ends up pregnant, but one of my strapless-bra-wearing limo friends. There is a lot of mutual groping going on, only some of which is concealed by the whirlpool bubbles. I am transfixed by the extended-dance-mix make-out session before turning away, searching desperately for a different song, a different sight, anything.
I run into her original date. I briefly think of kissing him until I remember that he’s boob height and that snogging other people’s dates isn’t my style. Our conversation goes something like this.
“What the @#$%’s going on?”
“They’re kissing.”
“No sh*t, Sherlock.”
“What do we do?”
Before either of us can answer, I wander away. My brain cycles a la Hamlet, plotting revenge only to talk myself out of it. Option Z attempts to talk to me. I am mute. I have become a prom cliché.
I retrieve my corsage from my tent and look at the ball of roses. Coral is the color of desire. I grab it, wander to the back and shred the petals into the empty hot tub. I don’t stick around to watch the filter clog, but I do stride away standing a little taller, thanks partially to a supportive bra.
Never had a HS prom as I was bullied very badly and got the heck out of there! I did graduate University twice -jr. High and high school were tortuous so feel I made up for that time later in life- bully free
That sucks. Big time. But a bully free adult life? As it should be!
This is SO well written… Love your stuff from here in Salem, OR…
Thanks, Dana.
Great Job Leanne. It almost sounds like a movie!
Ha. Never thought of it that way.
If it makes you feel any better, I would have totally made out with you. You are many things, Shirtsleeves, but cliche is not one of them. 😉
I’d say I would have, too, but I’d be arrested since you’re younger than my daughter.
Ha. You guys are funn-eh.
Ah yes, I’m feeling much better about going to my prom alone. Not that I didn’t attend plenty of school dances that ended badly. (It still smarts a little that my 7th grade crush asked my best friend to the spring dance, even though we’re all friends now and I couldn’t care less about him.) Well-written and loved the pics!
Thanks, Julie. I can put the wide angle lens away now that I no longer have 80s hair.
I’m so, so, so glad we don’t have proms.
We do have jerks in underwear, though 😛
Good point. I think jerks in underwear must be fairly ubiquitous.
What a jerk. Great story – it does have movie-making potential. When I was just out of high school, I met a similar cad. More than once, he called friends of mine to go out on dates. The third time was the clincher. I ditched him. Ironically, he later became the banker who handled our savings and my daughters’ trust funds. He was married. I didn’t envy his wife.
It is crazy how it ends up when we’re grown up, isn’t it?
Whew. Glad you walked away with your head held high and a little taller too. And as far as the Darwin Award–yep, he earned that one fair and square.
Yup. I knew there was a reason I *never* dated the party boys.
What I really think??? I think you should post Option Z’s name so that one day when he Google’s himself, he finds this story.
I’ve long forgiven. Just thankful I didn’t have any feelings for him.
Clearly he realized you were not going to put out like Miss Sluts-eh-plenty
Funny. Alcohol-induced bad decisions, I suspect.
Lo that’s it I need to borrow your sluts-eh-plenty line lol too funny
Some friend she was, ack! And option Z sure sound like a winner too. I do, however, love that you shredded the corsage and walked away like that 🙂 that was classier than stooping to their level – and honestly you’ve had the last laugh now 😉
The joy of being a writer. Revisioning and reowning history!
Oh, Leanne! What a prom. What a way to survive. And for the record, my dear. You could never be a cliche.
Aww. Thanks, Leigh. Somedays I beg to differ…
Please tell me that you’re at least FB friends with Option Z and that you can post this and tag him. Better yet, tag his wife, send her a sympathy card…
Nope. But lots of guys from my hometown read it. And my sister is FB friends with his brother. But this was vaguely easy to forgive (plus forgiving easily has been my strong suit)…
I’ve nominated you for the Sunshine Award. Please check it out here:
http://soitgoesperspective.wordpress.com/2012/06/24/the-sunshine-award/
Love it! Everything from the dress to the corsage to the dunce date was perfect!
(I made out with some guy at my grad after party – on a trampoline! I have no idea what his name was and I REALLY hope he wasn’t someone’s date!)
Oh wow. I want to say ‘you poor thing’ but that is so the wrong sentiment because you dodged a bullet with this one! I am laughing with you, and giving you loads of support (har har) for this story – I LOVED all 3 parts 🙂
I guess I’m a prom cliche too, because aside from the coral flowers, this was my prom. I guess the saying “off like a prom dress” doesn’t come from nothing. Cheers!