|because I'm lame, I made a crapy scrapbook |
of my high school years
I changed schools in the middle of my Junior year, so my old school let me come to that Prom because I had already paid my Junior dues (which goes towards prom and other various things). I didn't have a boyfriend... or friends at all really, which led me to ask an old friend from middle school to go with me. His name is James, and we were girlfriend and boyfriend in seventh grade for about a month. We reconnected during high school somehow, and he was the only guy I knew anymore.
The whole evening was awkward from the beginning. We picked James up from his house and brought him over to mine to get ready. Mom did my hair and make-up, I put on my discount dress, and presented myself to the bushy haired boy in a too big tux. Then my mom wanted to take pictures and they were so badly posed I couldn't keep a straight face.
In true Prom night tradition, we went out to a "fancy" dinner first. I was 16 and still didn't drive, not that my mom would have let me drive in downtown Atlanta alone with a boy anyways. Which meant we had my mom and her friend as
The Prom itself was held at Turner Field on the Lexus Level. It was a pretty snazzy venue and I had never been there before so it was neat to see without throngs of Braves fans everywhere. There were tables set up, a buffet of snacks, a tiny dance floor, and a soda bar, which was the coolest part.
After meeting up with a couple of acquaintances, we parked our butts at a table and barely moved all night. I tried to get James to socialize, but he wouldn't. I tried to get him to dance, but he wouldn't. Eventually I left him at the table and did my own thing for a bit, counting down the minutes until my mom would be back to pick us up.
My closest friend from my old school didn't even get there until nearly the end. When I wend to give her a hug, the beads on her straps cut my chin. It wasn't a deep cut, thank God and I cleaned up a little in the bathroom. At that point, I was done, ready to go, so I drug James down to the parking lot to wait for my mom.
We finally got back to my house, but it was too late to take him home that night, so he slept on my brother's futon in the playroom. I made one last attempt to salvage the night's promised "fun" and watched a movie with James, but all he wanted to do was touch my boobs, typical guy. Instead, I marched back upstairs and went to bed.
James and I talked once more after that night. I just couldn't think of him the same way anymore and we haven't spoken since.
I hope your prom was better than mine. Please tell me it was.
Next week on TBT: The House You Grew Up In