Friday, March 9, 2007

This is a photo from my ninth grade prom. I wasn't sure I was even going to go. One day, a guy walked me home. It wasn't on his way so I had that early 13 year old intuition that he was going to pop the question. "Will you go to the prom with me?" He was fishing ALOT, but I played dumb. The next day, was asked by 2 other guys. I new I was HOT! At least I knew I was going. I chose lucky bachelor number 2 and waited for the big day. He was the tallest of the group. Not that it really mattered, none of them drove, shaved and it was doubtful that a couple of them had begun puberty. The big night arrived and I spent 2 hours trying to curl my hair into the beautiful wad of curls that you see. My head was going to catch fire if I stood a mile from an open flame. He and his dad picked me up and we were delivered at a really nice restaurant. I was impressed that he paid with his dad's credit card, but it still didn't mean he was going to be able to touch any part of my taffeta covered body. We get to the dance and I dance with everyone but my date. I know, bad. His dad drove me home. He actually left us in the driveway and drove off! The memory of the evening ends right there, but I believe that I ran screaming for my front door, yelling to my mom that he was trying to grope me. Believe it or not, we stayed friends for a long time after this date. Today, he is a lawyer, happily married with 2 little girls that will eventually wear taffeta and get groped by a sex crazed 9th grade boy. Posted by Picasa

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