Oh Good, Prom.

Oh Good, Prom

By Karlie Kauffeld
Leland and Gray Union High School, Grade 11

So, here I am.
Two weeks until prom, and dateless. Very, very dateless. The world has clouded over
for me. All talk is of the prom, all announcements are about the prom, all the posters on the
walls and the telephone conversations: PROM. And you know what? Every other girl
seems to have a date! Why me? I am a perfectly able dancer, I have mildly styleable
hair, and I’m sure I could find a dress that would flatter me. But do I have need to
prove any of those things? NO. While one might argue that you needn’t have a date to
attend the annual junior/senior prom, the dateless attendee would reply that after
dozens of pitiful glances cast in their direction, and after standing near the table piled
with cheese and crackers making small talk with your English teacher who’s
chaperoning, a date is absolutely necessary.
Here, allow me to paint a picture of the so frequently dreamed of night. You enter the enormous hall, white lights are strung about, a quiet, constant murmur wafts
through. Some friends are huddled, giggling and poking at their boyfriend’s suits, remaking that they “still can’t believe I got you into this tux!” The group you came with, perfectly matched girls and boys, hang their coats and join the “fun.” You are left standing alone. You make your way clumsily, in the heels that you hate but that your mother made you buy, over to the wall, where you find a chair just begging to be sat in. After a while you kick off the heels and join the gang for some nice bopping around. Soon though, the music changes dramatically, the first few slow chords weave their way through the couples quickly gravitating towards one another. “Maybe someone will ask me to dance,” you think silently. You pretend not to look too eager, while your eyes dance around the room, stopping momentarily on each boy until he grabs up his “gal.” It’s not that you’re boy-crazy... it’s just that once in a while... it
might be nice...
Then comes a crisp tuxedo headed straight for you. You know you’re blushing. Do you look at him or pretend not to notice? You automatically become fascinated with the tie hanging lazily off your so-carefully-picked dress, and you realize he’s walking by you. Instantly you feel stupid. So, so stupid. You glance behind you, and realize that you’re standing right in front of the bathrooms. “Wonderful. The best place
to pick up guys,” you think sarcastically.
Yep, I can see it now. That’s where I’ll be, chatting up Ms. Scrattlebop while she flails her pink nails and wipes tears from her eyes whimpering, “Oh, they are just darling out there!”
I have to find a date. I can’t go to the prom alone... I simply cannot. My friends attack me with words of wisdom such as, “Just because you are tall doesn’t mean you can’t ask a short boy.” and, “Oh, the difference between a senior and a freshman isn’t that much. You should ask one of them.” Just once, I want to go with someone my height, and my age... Just once, I want to be asked, not do the asking. I don’t care how
anti-feminist of me it is, but I WANT TO BE THE GIRL!
The prom has taken over my life. It has caught me in its taffeta and crinoline-covered arms and is shaking me about to its groovy dance song. Gosh, just please, somebody ask me!!