Today I’m assigned to give a talk on family, and since you guys can’t make it, I figured I might as well post it on here for you to read if you want. :^)
There are two things nobody expects to happen on Prom night:
- The first is, nobody expects their Nana to have a minor heart attack on their stairs.
- The second is, nobody expects to cry.
That’s just a given! Nobody thinks to themselves, “Gee, I’ll probably have loads of scary drama happen tonight. Better grab the tissues and a paper bag, in case I need to hyperventilate!”
For the record, you guys are way lucky I’m writing about this now, instead of yesterday, otherwise you’d have an angsty, whiny post about how much my life sucks, but now I’ve got a better hold on things as they really are, so this won’t be as awful. I narrowed my mood swing down to two things:
- Lack of sleep
- PMS. It’s great, y’all. I’m just glad my uterus waited until the day AFTER Prom to wreak havoc on my life. No seriously. Think how horrible that would be, my fellow female readers. Let the terror sink in just a little bit. There we go.
For the record, yes, he looked mind-blowingly adorable. And that’s actually the boutonniere box in the picture, because he forgot the corsage at his house- we’d just retrieve it later.
We went downstairs so Nana could meet him, she gave us her stamp of approval, and we were off like a Roman candle!
We chatted and made small talk as he drove, and pretty soon we were (supposedly) at our destination. Which was a house. Then I realized that I sucked, because I’d jumped the gun and led us to the right place at the wrong time. We called Ryan, who was of no help at all, and then we set off once again to find the correct destination. We missed the turnoff a few times, but finally we got there. Everyone else had already arrived, and so they glared at us menacingly. I defended our position by telling them what happened back at home, and how it held us up- because it did. Guess what?
Nobody believed us. Uh, hello? Why would I joke about that? I brushed their disbelief aside and we headed over to the park to take pictures. It was actually really fun! Aside from walking around in high heels in the gravel, of course.
After pictures, we headed over to Charleston’s to have dinner. When we got there to request seating, a hostess came up to my gentleman and handed him a box. He turned to me and gave me my corsage! It was beautiful, and I loved that he gave it to me there. It was a stylish touch. :^) The wait was long, and by the time we were seated, Prom had started 30 minutes ago. :^( We hurried through dinner, and then jetted off to the dance.
While we were there, I found out that we had craptastic DJ’s who only played fast, bad songs and dubstep (which you can’t even dance to, btw), with the occasional slow song thrown into the mix. We decided to get in line for pictures, and after discovering how pointlessly long the wait was, headed back inside. We danced to a slow song, and I noticed something weird. My date started out dancing with me in closed dance position, but then moved so we were lightly holding hands while dancing, and pretty soon we just kind of swayed, not really touching anymore. Then the song ended, and we went back to awkwardly dancing to the crappy fast music. We made the necessary rounds, hugging people and telling them how wonderful they looked- which they did. Everyone looked like a star- and went back to awkwardly dancing. We even photobombed a picture!
After that, Prom royalty was announced, and we headed back to the hallway so we could wait for pictures without the huge line. Just my luck- of course Prom royalty had to dance a slow song, and since we were in the hallway, there was no slow dancing for us, which, frankly, bummed me out. I wanted to dance with him! Geez!
We went back in after deciding the wait was stupid, and he went to get a fancy drink. I got some water, and then another slow song started. Hurray! I would get to dance with him at last!
Just kidding. He came up to me and asked if it would be okay to dance with another girl for this song. I said okay, and watched from the sidelines while holding his drink to make sure it wouldn’t be discarded. I thought that maybe the same weird thing would happen, where he’d slowly let go of her, but nope. They waltzed all over the dance floor, doing tricks and spinning, and having a grand old time. I felt a twinge of sadness, because I really wanted that to be me in his arms being twirled around the room, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I sat dejectedly in the corner, holding his drink. When the song ended, he found me again and I handed him his drink, and we chatted while he sipped at it.
We got in line once again for pictures, and finally got some taken! We got back into the fray, and danced to the crappy music some more. We had just started dancing the bachata when someone from student council dragged him away for more pictures. I started talking to a girl and mentioned how I wished they would play more slow songs. She started laughing and said, “Just so you can dance with your date?”
Well, yeah. He’s my date, and this is Prom. You’re supposed to dance at Prom. It’s not because he’s the cutest guy in school, it’s not because I want to make people jealous, it’s not because I have this huge crush on him-because I don’t-I just want to dance with him to see if he’ll actually touch me this time. I want to be danced with. I want him to tell me I’m beautiful, because I did all this work for him. I want him to really touch me, not just put his arm around me flirtatiously and then back off as soon as someone starts talking to him. I said this in my head, but just smiled, and said, “Well yeah! He’s my date!” I started walking up to the DJ’s to let them know, but just then my date showed up from getting pictures taken. A slow song started, and we began dancing.
He held me close, and we swayed to the music. THIS was what I’d been waiting for. THIS was what I wanted. I was finally having a dance with him, when he said, “Do you mind if I cut in with her for a little bit?” I looked over and noticed a girl was on the sidelines, while her date spun someone else on the floor. She wasn’t sad, she was smiling, because even though her date was dancing with someone else, it was obvious that he’d been spending time with her, and no doubt he’d made her feel beautiful- which is what every girl deserves. Every girl spends countless hours preparing for this dance, and they need to feel appreciated and beautiful when the moment finally comes and they reveal their dress and their hair and their makeup to be judged by the boy and everyone else. But I digress. I said okay, and he twirled me away from him and began dancing with her. I stood all alone by a table, and watched as everyone danced with their dates.
The same girl I’d been talking to previously came up and said, “I loaned my date to somebody”. Smiling, she turned to me, as if asking where my date was. I smiled half-heartedly, and she said quietly, “did your date loan himself?” I nodded and looked at my shoes. I began to realize that he hadn’t hardly touched or danced with me at all the whole time we were at the dance, and once the realization hit, I felt downright awful. I looked at her and said, “We should ask for one more slow song, because I heard someone say this was the last slow dance.” We went up to the DJ’s and asked for one more slow song. the DJ looked at me and said
“No, we’ve got two minutes left- and we’ve got a song lined up already. Why, you want a slow song?”
Not even hiding my irritation, I said, “Well, yeah. You guys have played, like four slow songs this whole freaking time. It’s the last song! I want to dance!” He shrugged and turned back to his table.
Mentally kicking him, I walked away. With a screech, the last song began to play. The last song. I couldn’t believe it. Prom was over, and I hadn’t danced a full song with my date. My heart sunk down to my shoes, and as he approached, I tried to smile. He said we could try to slow dance to this last song even though it was fast, and so we did. For approximately 30 seconds. Then he asked if I wanted to find our group, so I said sure, and we found them. Obviously nobody was slow dancing, so we stopped and stood in a circle the rest of the song.
Then it ended, and we left. We sang “I Won’t Say I’m in Love” on the way to the car for some reason, and then said goodbye to our group. We got in the car, and he said, “I feel kinda bad for ditching you on the last slow song,” and I laughed weakly. I made sure not to say “It’s okay”, because it wasn’t. He hadn’t danced with me all the way through for a single song. He didn’t touch me hardly at all. He never said I looked beautiful. He told other girls they looked nice, but he never said anything to me. My heart plummeted. Why wasn’t I good enough for him? What did I do to merit this? I thought I looked okay, why didn’t he say anything? Why wouldn’t he touch me? Why, why, why? All the girls who’d talked to me about it all said the same thing: he’s the best date, he’ll dance with you for like every song, he’ll stay by your side the whole time, blah blah blah. Why was I the exception? Why would he do that to me? Why wasn’t I good enough for him? I kept these thoughts in my head the whole way home, and we made more small talk. We talked about the play, and being a lead character in it, and other things, but my heart still hurt. To add on to everything, I was worried about Nana, and I was embarrassed about getting lipstick on his suit and leading us the wrong way when we were supposed to be at the park, and I was really embarrassed about having made such a huge deal about everything for three weeks.
But I never said anything about this. He had a good time I think, and if he’s happy, I’m happy-ish.
He walked me to the door and hugged me, and I apologized once again for the terrible navigating job. He said, “Haeley, I’ve already totally forgotten that! Don’t worry! The directions were dumb, it’s not your fault”, then he hugged me again. That made we feel a little better, and I thanked him again for asking me, and went inside. My parents had waited up for me, and I told them my story. I went in my room and fell apart after that. Prom is supposed to be special, so why was I crying? I was tired, I was worried, I was embarrassed, I was crushed.
I sent one of my friends a picture of my date and I, and eventually explained everything to her. It felt good to vent, and it felt good to have someone listen. I went to bed and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. I still hurt.
The next day I had to explain everything to my siblings, and I had to try very hard not to cry. When I told Geneal though, I lost it. I just cried and cried, and she listened sympathetically. I really have the best people on earth surrounding me and loving me. Everyone has been so kind and caring to me, and I really appreciate it. Sorry this story ends sadly, but I figured I needed to write down everything. I feel better now, now that I know that most of my emotions have stemmed from lack of sleep and menstruation, and I understand that he’s is a popular boy, and popular boys need to tend to their flock of followers, so he did. He just forgot to tend to his date sometimes.
Overall, I did have an enjoyable time, and even though the dance itself was lackluster, I’ve decided it’s because he’s popular, and popular people wear masks around multiple people.
I’ll post more pictures soon!
Thanks for reading,
I am a self-proclaimed failure when it comes to kitchen craftiness (unless you count macaroni and other easily boiled pastas), and I often joke about how sad it will be when I get married and my husband finds out I can’t cook. But lately, things have started to change. I discovered that I make gnarly deviled eggs, and today, I made another discovery. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I present you with…
Since this post, I’ve been making omelettes nonstop, because I want to perfect my approach, and they’ve been pretty good. Unfortunately, I’ve never gotten them to flip very well, until today. It flipped perfectly, and I think the trick is to make sure the egg is evenly spread out on the bottom of the pan. I added some new seasonings to the mixture; namely chipotle pepper IN the mixture, not just on top of the finished product, more salt and pepper, and garlic salt. After the omelette was finished, I put sundried tomatoes in the middle, freshly sliced tomato on the top, a dab of Greek yogurt, Italian seasoning, and, of course, lemon pepper. I like to make things look beautiful, and the color was so rich that I took more pictures. I think this one in particular was my favorite!
It really does look gorgeous, no?
So with all this stressing about Prom and my dress and my date, etc. etc., it’s been pretty hard to really enjoy the whole process. I’m sure you guys know all about this, because of my obsession with posting about it, and talking about it, and dreaming about it- four dreams, to be exact- I’m sure to be annoying you all to death, but I just can’t help it! I’m so excited and scared!
The one person who’s been keeping me sane this whole time is none other than my wonderful mother. I seriously do not know what I would do if she wasn’t by my side throughout all this. She’s been so excited for me this whole time, she hasn’t complained that I’m boring her nor does she tell me to chill out. She’s as excited as I am, I think! Last night when we were picking out my fabric, she kept squealing and saying how exciting this was. I love you so much, Mommy.
It makes my day to come home and have a mom who’s every bit as excited for Prom as I am, and it makes her just that much more dear to me.
I can’t thank this woman enough for all she’s been doing for me, and I hope that she knows how appreciative I am.
And for the record, I am in LOVE with the fabric we picked out. It’s a lovely, understated color.
Last night, I dreamt that I went to outer space for a choir field trip, and it was the COOLEST DREAM EVER. I really like being in outer space, apparently. I thought about it periodically throughout the morning, and just as I was pulling in the driveway, still pondering my future as the first ever midget-woman-astronaut, an ice cream truck was making its rounds through the neighborhood. We commented on how irritating the song that played on repeat through the speakers was, and I started to think how ghetto the ice cream trucks that come here seem to be.
That’s not the truck we saw, but they pretty much look like that.
Then I thought to myself, why aren’t there any CUTE ice cream trucks?
They always seem cute in the movies. I guess Arizona is just underprivileged…..?
Then it hit me.
Not the ice cream truck, of course. But an IDEA. A FABULOUS idea. I quickly dismissed all thoughts of being an astronaut and focused on what was really a realistic, smart idea.
Just yesterday, as my mom, my sisters and I snuck some healthy/sugar-free ice cream, I decided that the world needed a cute, healthy, sugar-free ice cream parlor, and how I should run it. I of all people know how irritating it is to not be able to have ice cream simply because of the ingredients, and how smart it would be to have an ice cream parlor that was entirely sugar-free AND healthy. No Splenda, no aspartame, no scary sweeteners. Just the pure, good stuff that you can feel confident about eating.
Ice cream is one of my absolute favorite desserts, and I remember the few times in my childhood when the ice cream truck came to our neighborhood, I would always beg my mom for the chance to have some. I even had dreams about ice cream trucks, for heaven’s sake! I seriously love ice cream.
So my thought was this:
why not run an ice cream truck? And why not make it something sugar free, healthy, and above all, CLASSY? I don’t feel very comfortable about those scary trucks, so I might as well make my own and make it something a mother would be okay with.
So then I came up with Classy Cream, an innovative, healthy, and fun ice cream truck! You’ve seen those adorable food trucks, yes?
Great. So basically it would be set up like a food truck, only with ice cream, and a dash of vintage class that I adore. Add cutesy candy-striper uniforms, business cards, a website, a phone number (to schedule catering events. Duh), and even hours! I don’t know about you, but I don’t love having the ice cream truck show up only on Sundays, and at such unpredictable times, to boot. I would get rid of that. Plus, as previously mentioned, I would carry only sugar-free things, so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about eating my ice cream all the time! I never really loved the ice cream from ice cream trucks anyway. They always tasted cruddy, and the random gumballs they’d stick in the ice cream pops were NASTY. My approach would be more tasty, naturally. For starters, no gumballs. Also, I would serve the ice cream in cones that I would scoop for them. None of this pre-frozen cone nonsense. I would be the real deal, folks. It’d be an old-fashioned, fabulous treat! Maybe I’d even have specialty items, like sundaes and banana splits.
In regards to having music, I’d probably come up with something cute and not annoying. I’d have to work on that, but isn’t it genius?? WAY better than being an astronaut. Although I’d still like to go to space. Maybe I could cater for a space shuttle?