I woke up this morning so very sad (or as Squishy says, “so, so vewwy saaaad”). I couldn’t figure out why. Then my dream came back to me.
I was walking on a path through the woods with a great crowd of people. Everyone was walking in pairs, and John and I were walking together. We were talking about the prom. Evidently, we had just broken up, and I couldn’t figure out who to go to the prom with. I didn’t want to just go with one of my guy friends, I wanted to have fun. Then it occurred to me, even if John and I had broken up, we should still go together! No-one knows me better than him, we would have a great time! Even though we were broken up!
So I shared this with him. And do you know what Dream-John said?
He said no. He said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe you should go with him,” and points to a guy walking, alone, in front of us. “He’s a nice guy.”
Dream-Me turns petulant. “I don’t want to go with him, I want to go with you. We’ve been together this long, you can’t even take me to the stupid prom?”
The worst part about it was the way he was looking at me. With a mix of pity, and, well, more pity. He felt sorry for me because I couldn’t get a date and he was probably going with some hot cheerleader who had just been waiting, biding her time to get her slutty mitts on my hot guy, waiting until prom when she’d get all tarted up in some low-cut dress and have her hands all over my HUSBAND in a tuxedo, when everyone knows that guys don’t get any hotter than when they’re in a tuxedo.
Whew. Thank God it was just a dream. You’d think I had some buried insecurities about going to the prom, or getting a date in general while I was in high school.
So when I shared this with Real-John, how Dream-John had let me down by turning down my invitation to the prom (even when I’d made it clear I would totally have put out) he LOOKED at me with that same pity thing.
I hate that pity look. But the good news is, that cheerleader probably has a raging case of herpes. Or whatever the kids are catching these days.
If I had a scanner I'd post a picture of me at my prom. Because who wasn't hott in the 80s? Both proms I went with guy-friends of mine (one of whom had to ASK his prissy girlfriend from private school, as if I was going to jump him or something--he was one of my best friends. What a tool.). If you can sense a theme developing here, you're right on target. I wasn't one of those girls in high school with one boyfriend for three years, or even three boyfriends in one month. I was that girl that had my first kiss when I was 14 (playing Truth or Dare, no less--how romantic is that?) then dated a few more guys here and there, but mostly there. I was always hopelessly in love with someone or other, then I'd call and ask him out, he'd say no, I'd mourn for a day or so, then latch onto someone else. Lather, rinse, repeat.
The really amusing thing was, every guy always had a designated song, as in, "Oh, it's "Hard Habit to Break," that's our sooong," spoken mournfully from the corner at a slumber party..uh, I mean, wild, raging all-nighter. Now every sappy 80s love song reminds me of some pathetic jerk I was hopelessly-in-love-with-for-three-days. Can you beat that? These songs actually still remind me of these guys.
Do you think when they hear these songs, they think of me?
Oh, I think they do. I think they do.
Fortunately for me, I was able to squelch most of this self-destructive behavior before I met the one person who had to believe I possessed some measure of sanity. At least initially. Twelve years later, all bets are off. Yes, yes, yes, he tried to break up with me after a month or so, but the Guwi magnetism was too strong. He came back.
Thank God. Because I have so little time these days, adding "Find a Prom Date" to my list would really send me over the edge.