It’s prom season again. Girls are out buying dresses colored to match sherbert flavors. Limos glide up in their white and silver glory to scoop up the teenagers and dash them off to a fun filled night of laughter, sprinkled with dancing, and sweet memory making. Of course I’ve been thinking about my own prom experience during the Victorian period. Did you know they had proms back then? Okay, I’m not that old.
Let me set the stage. It’s the time of big hair, balloon skirts, and the boys dressing like Sonny Crocket. I’m 17, a senior in high school, and on again with my on again off again boyfriend. Let’s call him Dumb Boyfriend. (DBF) He’s a senior too and I’m thinking we might just stay together forever this time. Or at least until the end of the school year. Ah, young love. (I wasn’t much brighter than he was. Now, I’m smarter. Just ask my grandmother.)
DBF asks me to be his date for the prom. My heart swells, my face flushes, this is it. Destined to be together. I want to carve our initials in a tree. Instead, my mother takes me to buy a dress, I put out the money for the prom bids, and rent a limo with my BFF Loren. Plus my other BFFs Betsy and Meredith will be arriving at the prom, with their limo right beside ours, and we’re all sitting together at the big event. It’s planned, my hair is piled high, I’m ready, but there’s one problem. DBF decides to dump me two weeks before the prom! I know. Sad, but true.
Betsy went home and told her much older brother about my pathetic situation and he offers to take me. Or take pity on me. Not sure which. But I had never met Betsy’s brother. He’s ten years older than we are and was already out of the house so he wasn’t ever there for Friday night giggle fests. What’s a girl to do?
I’ll tell you what she does. She accepts that offer and says, “up yours” to the DBF. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) No sense in wasting a perfectly adorable prom dress.
I went to my senior prom on a blind date. I met him right as he pinned the corsage on. And guess what? I had a fantastic time. We danced all night. I had a much better time than I would have with DBF. He would have been too cool to dance or too stupid. You pick. I never got to say, “thank you” to DBF for doing me the favor of dumping me. Maybe this blog post will do.
I did say thank you to my date. And I’ll say it again. “Thank you.”
Let this be a lesson to you girls, no situation defines you. And when someone says you can’t or you shouldn’t or I want to break up with you, you say….all together now…”up yours.” Metaphorically speaking, of course.