Sonia is hosting a blog prom, wherein she is celebrating everything prom. We've already gone over prom songs, and today is the day for stories! Go check it out!
In honor of that, I am going to tell you my senior prom story. It will actually mark the first time in which I have ever spoken at length about my first boyfriend, whom I dated from ages 16 to almost 20. He was three years older than me, six feet four inches tall, and had very fair skin and red hair. Thus, he will be dubbed Big Red.
Big Red and I had already been dating for a year and a half when my senior prom came around, so I was glad not to have to worry about finding a date and all that. We had gone to Homecoming together, so I knew there was no way he was thinking he was too old to go to prom with me.
I got my dress, a white strapless Jessica McClintock (how 80's of me, I know!) number, pressed on my pink nails since as an athelete I just didn't do big nails for more than one day, and sort of did my hair. I say that because I had gotten a perm not too long before, and as it was a bit short, there really wasn't anything I could do with it other than leave it down and have it look nice and curly. I remember buying this special expensive gel that wound up making my hair look like a bedraggled wet dog, but I digress. I was traumatized by that AFTER prom, when I got the pictures back. I told my best friend, "Why didn't you TELL me about my HAIR?"
Anyhoo, everything went off smoothly: the limo, the pre-dinner, the pretending to eat the dinner they served at prom, and finally the music started to play. I have never been a huge dancer, but all of our table got up to dance, and I got up myself, tugged on Big Red's tux, and he refused. Yup, he didn't want to dance! I remember getting upset. I remember us fighting out in the lobby, because obviously the prom room was too damn loud to fight in because of the music.
Our fight was forever immortalized by a friend of mine that saw us sitting on one of the couches and snapped our picture mid-fight. There I am, sitting with my arms crossed in front of my chest, not even bothering to look happy. There he was, arm awkwardly around my shoulders, his face very flushed because his skin was so fair that he flushed whenever upset or embarassed. To say it was an unflattering picture would be an understatement.
Now, did the night end happily? Well, yes and no, since all he would do was slow dance with me, which was NOT what I was looking for, but I took it. So, on my prom night, I danced all of maybe two dances.