Prom: everyone’s FAVORITE school-governed articulated school dance. You know...the prancing-encrusted event that girls typically splurge on themselves: $250.00 sheer-dazzled mermaid gowns, mani-pedis that total a value of which is more than the worth of my car, and real human hair extensions are only a few splashes of icing on the prom-circulated cake. Oh...and you can NOT forget about the guys! Gentlemen, among the ages of 17 and 18 year-olds, join the girls in the ‘treating-yo'self’ shopping method: shelling out $80.00 on a rental ( a RENTAL) tuxedo for four-hours, purchase corsages for their female (or other male) dates, and visit their local Supercuts for a quick tune-up. This sounds like a terrific night, right?
And this year, I FINALLY get the chance to experience it! I finally get to embrace the window-dress shopping, the hair extensions, and even the french-styled manicure for which can disguise my disgracefully weak cuticles. At last, the “window of opportunity” has opened up to me. At this current moment in time, my entire body-head to toe-is throbbing with charged impulses of excitement. But...there’s a catch: I don’t have a date. And here’s some more BREAKING NEWS: I’m 100% okay with that.
In my personal experience, I’m somewhat immune to going to events without a ‘date.’ Ever since I was in Pre-K, I’ve always been thought of as a “loner,’ someone who enjoys being alone. I actually was taunted with this throughout middle school too.
Don’t mistake my words: I still have friends. And I still have relationships. However, whenever it comes to social events, I’m usually disconnected from these relations. I’m DEFINITELY not a social butterfly. Instead...I’m a cocoon; huddling and burying my emotions in a self-wrapped cloth around my body in order to preserve my identity in a communal setting.
Over the years of Homecomings and Valentine dances, I’ve developed a method: go in, twiddle my feet-from left to right in a circular motion, exchange a few (let me repeat this again: A FEW) conversations with some friends, and then stand to the right of the 6 ft. bleachers. More than often guys will scavenge up the courage-and confidence-to request my ‘presence in a dramatic dance’ (a.k.a. they want me to dance with them during a slow, slow, SLOW Ed Sheeran melody). Upon these requests, I have beads of sturdy sweat pellets streaming down the crease of my neck ( you know...due to anxiety). Once in awhile, I’ll take them up on their offer. But in general...I lie: “Oh...sorry...but...errrm...uhhh...my boyfriend’s gonna be back pretty soon. But thanks.”
And I OBVIOUSLY have contemplated the fact that prom-the social event of our ENTIRE academic lives-is THE ceremony to be at. But, in my own preference, I’d prefer jamming it up on the dance floor with my casual guy friends and my gal pals rather than being glued to someone’s hip throughout the entire disco-fiasco. I’m more of a solo-artist; I’m someone who purely depends on me, myself, and I, on anything and EVERYTHING in my own life. And if anyone...ANYONE...were to judge me on my choice to go solo to prom, I have only one thing to say to them.So.What. #SorryNotSorry