Back in high school I opted out of prom. Why should someone as evolved as I, participate in such a sexist, capitalistic rite of passage? Hardly any of my friends were going, it was expensive and would likely be a spend the night feeling socially awkward. I considered pulling a Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink and going just to prove a point. She looked super cool in her custom-handmade dress, had the company of the always entertaining Ducky and Andrew McCarthy decided that he wanted to be with her after all. It was possible that I could have a good time, but I wasn't willing to risk it. The years passed. Entire decades passed and for some mysterious reason, I couldn't get over the fact that I missed prom.
“You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.”Tupac Shakur
I tried to move on. That didn't work. I tried to move the fuck on. That didn't work either. Twenty two years late or not, I needed a prom. I had a milestone birthday coming up in a year. What better way to usher in a new decade than having a prom-themed birthday party? I bashfully mentioned this idea to a few friends. They thought it was a great idea (or at least were willing to indulge me). I was giddy with excitement and nervous energy! Would anyone show up? Would it be hokey? Would it be the prom of my dreams? Would it fill that prom-less void in my life? Oh my! I'm forty and I'm going to the prom!
 | |
| Tupac and I. This photo was taken at the site of my future prom.. |
No comments:
Post a Comment