The Senior Prom: Part I

Hi meghan, im gettin ready to go pick up your wrist thing now and i just wanted to let you know that incase i cant get a hold of you before tonight i'll pick you up at 6:15. i cant wait, it should a fun night, i cant think of any other girl i would rather be going with. whatever you want to do afterwards is fine with me, just let me know, i'll give you a call before i pick you up if your home from your hair appointment. talk to you later, bye. LOVE,

joejoe

This was the email that I sent from my computer just minutes before I set out on what would turn out to be the worst night of young life. With hopes so high and plans to finally let the girl I had been obsessing over for nearly a year know how I felt about her, I journeyed into a the seemingly normal damp spring night that would soon play host to the opening of Hell's gates.

May 24th, 1999:

It was the day of Senior Prom. A day where nerves, anxieties, anticipation and youthful hormones intertwine in a collusion of proportions of such magnitude that it can only occur once per year. For some it can be the most magical night of their high school lives, but for most the night ends in disappointment that will live on in their young minds for eternity.

Because this is being read on the net, I know the vast majority of you likely never made it through your sophomore year of high school and thus aren't aware of the concept of "The Prom" so allow me to elaborate. It's a ceremony as old as education itself where each male member of the junior and senior class chooses a date, nervously maps out the method he will use to ask her and then takes two weeks backing down time and time again before finally gathering the courage to invite the buxom young tart to the end of the year dance.

I had to do no deliberation over just who that tart would be for me. For nearly one year, I had allowed myself to fall in to one of this situations where a fellow falls hopelessly in love with his best friend. This friend was a sea-beast of a girl by the name of Meghan, and we spent an unbelievable amount of time together during our Senior year.

I wouldn't wish the blindness that would occur if viewing her face on anyone.

Whether it be at lunchtime in the cafeteria, in the rafters at football games or me helping her baby-sit on the weekends, we were inseparable. Everybody I had ever met knew it was blatantly obvious that I was sweet on her and unless she was a total retard, she had to have known too. She had this internet wrestling celebrity wrapped around her little finger, and like the hundreds of other manipulative c-nts who likely live in your area, she loved it. As a result of this tension, I was constantly grumpy. My friends tried to talk to me and give me advice constantly, but I would only snap at them and deny it. As you may remember from the "Dark Ages" series on the old ScaryMidgets (which I could reprint if one of you peanutheads hadn't hacked the site and trashed the archives), Ken and I almost came to blows at times when I would see her number on his pager or witness them talking in the hallways. My paranoia was high and I was never myself when she was around our group of friends. When one of my friends would ask her how she was, he was put on my radar and I would shoot him the dirtiest of glares.

When you are young and inexperienced, you don't see the forest for the trees. This was obviously no way to live, but I continued along. At times I would break down and tell her how I felt about her, but I constantly made the cardinal rookie mistake of taking the easy way out and doing it via email and instant messaging. Using a medium of cowards and the weak, she constantly replied by stating she didn't want to ruin the friendship, but ending it with a wink, a kiss or something just open ended enough to keep me strung along. By the time a month before prom came, she even began telling me that she loved me at the end of every phone call. Something friends should do? Well I certainly don't tell Ken I love him at the end of the every phone call, partially because Adultery Anderson is so quick to cheat that he would likely even plant a kiss on me if I was looking pretty enough that evening. With these "I love you's" flying, me finally beginning to calm down and her falling asleep with her head on my shoulder on the bus ride home from Grad Night at Disney World, I had my sights set on Prom and I knew that we were destined to go together.

It was two weeks before prom and after being pep-talked by friends, I headed towards her home on a rainy Sunday evening to ask her the question burning a hole through my heart. When I arrived, I swung open the door of my Ford Taurus, walked through the rain like a man on a mission and rapped on her door confidently.

"Hey JoeJoe" she said, using the obnoxious nickname that still haunts my dreams to this day.

The scent of piss and mildew that normally stagnated the air in her home hit me like a load of bricks.

As I entered, she asked why I was here so late. I knew this my chance. My chance to sweep her off her feet. To show confidence for one time in my pathetic existence. "Well, I was just in the area and I thought I would stop in and say hi". With my tail between me legs, I followed her to her room and we laid on the bed together, maintaining our habit of never, EVER touching. Her room was the epicenter of the resonating stench that filled the air, yet I didn't care, for this sea beast was destined to be the future Mrs. Jay Bower. After conversation about as dopey as the three legged dog who spent his days defecating throughout the house, I looked her in the eyes for the moment of truth.

"You...you know I was thinking tonight. There is...well there is nobody that I...I would rath...rather go to the prom with than you" I said nervously.

"Awww" she replied.

"Will you be my date?" I asked.

"I don't know. I'd rather wait to see who else asks first".

"I don't know. I'd rather wait to see who else asks first".

"I don't know. I'd rather wait to see who else asks first".

With a sense of dejection probably similar similar to that your parents experience when dwelling on you, I tried to look as un-phased as I could as I said "That's cool, just let me know".

Now if any of you are ever in this position, I would suggest walking away and never, EVER looking back. Whether she realized it or not, she had just crushed my world and delivered one of the biggest insults that I had ever received, essentially saying "I'll settle for you if no one better asks". But being the spineless sack of shit that I was, I continued on.

The week before prom came, and as is typical of sea beasts who's hair smells of human urine, nobody else had asked her. I approached her in the lunch room, winked and said assuredly "So, what time should I pick you up for prom?".

Without selling my courage for asking the question one bit, she looked me dead in the eyes and said "I'm still keeping my options open JoeJoe" in a manor that screamed "PSSSHAW! I'm so cute that every other male sea beast in the school is stressin' me!". Dejected, I once again no sold the answer and said "That's cool, just let me know". It really came down to the wire, but about five days before prom she located me via instant message and sent me the following line which is still burnt into my mind like a nightmare.

MEGHAN: i GUESS i will go prom with you, it better be fun though.

Because she hadn't a single other offer, I should have theoretically been in the drivers seat now, but alas I managed to blow it in less than five seconds. "I am so happy I could cry" I replied. Why the f-ck did I say something so stupid? Why the f-ck did I, in seven words, hand her back control on a silver platter? The answer is simple. I was a young kid smitten for the first time who didn't know any better.

The day of prom arrived and my date's lack of enthusiasm was more than made up for by my overwhelming glee. I had promised myself to finally stop talking and act on my feelings for her this evening and I wanted things to be perfect.

Myself, Ken and four other male friends had arranged for a limo. I had spent over $80 on a dozen roses and reservations were in place. Ken and I got fresh fades, picked up our tuxes and timed everything down to the second. Becoming more confident by the second, I began to openly gloat to my friends that tonight would be the night that I finally bagged the sea beast. I was on top of the world. And then the phone rang. "JoeJoe. I hope you don't mind but plans have slightly changed."

"What?" I asked.

The next line would prove to be the catalyst for the worst night of my young life.

To be continued…..