This is my graphic novel story thing.

So I get asked to prom over Facebook. Which probably should have clued me in a little. Not that I like this guy or anything either. He’s short. And not-so-cute. And annoying. And there’s this whole other mess about how he’s actually dating this other girl, and she can’t go with him so he asks me and actually this other girl too, and all three of us are in his former confirmation class at church. And I didn’t even find some of this out until the pre-prom dinner.

But I say yes for whatever reason and so he shows up at my house, and puts on of those flower things on my wrist, and we go out to his car. And his dad is driving. Despite the fact that my date is eighteen? He doesn’t have his driver’s license. We go out and eat dinner, and he keeps making weird comments that are clearly supposed to be flirtatious, but actually just sound like cheesy pick-up lines.

Then when we leave the restaurant, still half an hour before the prom starts, turns out his dad’s been waiting in the parking lot the whole time. How lame can you get. What are we, ten?

Since the prom doesn’t start until seven, and it’s only six-thirty, we think, hey, we should go to a movie in our prom clothes, won’t that be funny. But his dad says, no way, you can’t walk around! And I’m thinking, my parents would let me do this, and aren’t you supposed to be emancipated at 18?

So we compromise, get dropped off at the library where my friends are hanging out which happens to be about a quarter mile from the event (and even this took some persuasion,) but that’s a no-go too, because my date shows a remarkable lack of conversational skills. It’s boring, so we walk to the movies anyway. We watch most of Knowing. Nicholas Caige. We leave before everyone dies, though.

Finally, it’s prom! The most magical night of your life, right! Of course! Not! Hahahaha!

When I walk into the room full of white people that I don’t know from the suburbs grinding on each other, that’s when I really start to realize how dumb this is. Pretty much everything I hate in one room? Dancing, crowds of people I don’t know, suburban kids, country music, I swear to God they played country music mixed in with all the top 40 rap from the past two years, and a date who is really starting to get on my nerves. And probably plenty of Republicans, although I didn’t ask anybody.

But I do try. We dance. A little. Neither of us wants to, him because he’s one of those people who are too embarrassed, me for the same reason plus I don’t really want to touch him that much. When we give up on that, I try to talk to his friends, but they all apparently think I’m a crazy lady or something, since none of them will really talk beyond grunting. And some of them are totally hotter than my date, who has somehow grown uglier as the night goes on, and they’re either dateless or their dates have ditched them, and since I actually have no loyalty whatsoever to my date? I would totally ditch him for someone who’s actually taller than me. But since I’m apparently too weird to talk to. I have to sit. With my boring date. For about four hours.

Eleven o’clock. That’s when our ride gets there. We try to get them to come at ten, but they don’t show up until the very end of the prom. By that time I am so abso-friggin-lutely bored, I’ve danced to Soulja Boy, tried to teach my date how to waltz, and am considering making out with him just to do something. But luckily my ride home saves me. Not that I’m super enthusiastic about said ride, since it consists of my date’s mother’s friend’s daughter, who apparently was nine months pregnant at her prom, or so she declares, and a guy who is probably high. The high guy is driving.

Oh well. We make it home safe. Date guy walks me to the door. But I escape before he tries to kiss me.

I go to bed.