My Story

It has been a while since I've written anything, and I promised I would tell the story of my worst date ever, so here it is:
I was a junior in high school, only 16 years old, and the junior prom was coming. I knew that I would not be asked, but I wanted to go, just to say I did. My mom didn't go to prom, and I wanted to be able to tell my kids that I did. I was talking at lunch with the girls I considered to be my friends. They were, of course, talking about prom and who they should ask because they were pretty sure they wouldn't be asked either. One girl, "Mary" said that "Kristen" should ask Mike (that's his real name), but Kristen said she wasn't so sure she wanted to. I had known Mike since the fourth grade. He lived next door to my mom's good friend, and my piano teacher. I decided I would ask him to the prom. Kristen had said she wouldn't, so I thought it wouldn't be a problem. More on that later.
I had math with Mike and decided to ask him after class. I'm a pretty shy person and so approaching someone to talk to them is a terrifying event. I was so nervous that I asked him three times before I realized that he had said yes. Mission accomplished. Now it was time to find a dress. I have different requirements for a dress than most girls do, namely that it must have sleeves, cover my back and front sufficiently, and no slits past the knees. Obviously this is a near impossibility, but thankfully I and both my parents sew. I chose a pattern and beautiful purple charmeuse and organza fabric. My mom is the queen of procrastination, so of course my dress was finished at the very last minute, and I mean the very last minute.
Prom was to be held in a very fancy reception hall in downtown San Jose. My date was to pick me up at 6:00 so we could get there before they closed the doors and served dinner. At about 4:30 I got out of the shower and dried my hair, in my slip. My mom began doing my hair and stopped when she realized that my dress wasn't hemmed yet!!! So my dad set up the sewing machine in the living room and began sewing the hems of all three layers of the skirt. Mom went back to doing my hair and was interrupted again when my grandfather arrived. It was opening night of Peter Pan, the play that two of my little sisters were in. Those sisters weren't home, they were at the school getting ready for their performance. My baby brother ran back and forth between the living room and the bathroom to see how the dress was coming, and my other sister was gathering things for me: my jewelry, purse, shoes, etc.
Then I heard the doorbell ring. My date was there, and I was in my underwear. Grandpa answered the door and showed him into the living room, where Dad was still sewing the dress. My dad tried to talk to Mike, but it was too hard to hear over the sound of the Bernina. "So, what is it that you do for a living?" Mike asked my dad. "I'm vice president over facilities and manufacturing of a pharmaceutical company," was the answer my stunned date got. I don't think he'd ever seen a man sew before. My grandfather, who's only hobby is family gossip, tried to talk to Mike over the sound of the sewing machine while my brother continued to run up and down the hall from all the excitement. Finally it was done and he brought me the dress. I put it on, grabbed my purse and sweater and walked into the living room where we did the whole corsage and picture thing. Then we went to his car and got on the freeway.
We got lost getting there, which was apparently my fault because I couldn't read the directions he had written down. When we did get there we went into the dining room to see those girls sitting at a table with their dates and two empty chairs which were removed from the table almost a soon as we had arrived. I waved hello and got only cold stares in return. We sat at a table with people I didn't know and ate. The food tasted ok and the conversation wasn't too bad because we had ended up at a table with intelligent people, not too easy at prom. After dinner we went to do pictures. It is the worst picture I have ever seen in my life. I look retarded because I didn't want to be draped all over him like the photographer kept positioning us, and we look really awkward. The other reason the picture is so bad is that Mike was born with dark Brillo-esque hair and eyebrows to match, but he bleached most of his hair for this special occasion. That's right, not all of the hair and none of the eyebrows. Immediately following this horrible ordeal we went to the bar, where he spilled Coke all down my dress.
The dinner made me ill so I had to keep escaping to the bathroom. I had been completely shunned by all my girlfriends. Mike was being obnoxious and trying to touch me in ways I did NOT want him to. I was relieved when it was over and we went to collect my sweater. On our way out Kristen asked Mike if he could drive her home. She and a couple of the girls had come alone, and the others were going out and she was tired. He said that was fine, which I was okay with, and we drove away. He dropped me off first, even though geographically it would have made more sense to drop her off first. He came around and opened my door and said "thanks. That was fun" and left me at the curb while Kristen got out of the back and into the front seat.
That is not only the story of my worst date, it is also the story of my first date ever in my life. I must say that all the dates between then and my last date (18 months ago) were better than that, if only slightly. I think it was good to start off so low, I could only go up from there!