I had a bizarre moment Saturday night. My boyfriend made a comment about how next time we would have to make an effort to coordinate our outfits just as well as we did this year for our senior prom. Then we stopped and looked at each other. There wouldn’t be another school dance. This was it.
I suppose it happens a lot as you age, and I haven’t aged much at all yet, but it was a weird sensation. This entire chapter of our lives will be gone forever come June. There isn’t any regret, but regardless, it’s bittersweet. On a more upbeat note, prom itself was wonderful . A mother of one of my close friend’s helped me with my hair and makeup as I had waited until the last minute and not taken into account that those things would need to be attended to. My date, who (for the public record) looked absolutely jaw-droppingly amazing, picked me up, and we took the 500 photos that were required by both of our families.
For dinner we joined a party of 20 (yes, it was a huge group) at a swanky restaurant. This was one of the many times that I silently thanked myself I was going with my boyfriend of 2 years instead of a date that I had scrambled to find at the last minute. For the duration of the meal we mostly spoke to each other and took turns chiding one another on the placement of our elbows on the table. The dance itself was great. During the one and only slower dance a pack of our friends legitimately left where they had been dancing to find us and watch us with one of them crooning, “I cried, I really cried”.
We stayed until the very end of the dance or until the DJ and administration were shuffling people out of the door. By this point in time, Carlton’s (my boyfriend) boutonniere had completely disintegrated. In a rather ridiculous show to both make me feel better and make the pictures from the dance decent, he took the completely severed petals and pinned them all together with a straight pin back onto his lapel. Neither of us seem to do too well with flowers. Last year my corsage, which had been gorgeous, slipped into one of the openings in the lace in my dress. Sweetly, Carlton spent 20 minutes crouched hovering over my dress in the rainy parking lot trying to get it untangled with a set of car keys and a flashlights. At least the mishap this year didn’t involve rain, and the pictures did turn out quite well with the malfunction unnoticeable.
After leaving the dance with our friends in tow, we returned briefly home so that he could change and I could exchange my heels for something a bit more sensible for late night bowling. We spent the rest of the night between cheap breakfast places and bowling allies only to return home and promptly fall asleep on the couch. The next morning we headed out to the beach with a bag of Nutella and strawberries in hand and a huge blanket to spread out along the seashore.
Everything from the weekend was perfect, but something still felt off. There’s this weird sense that overcomes you when you pass a milestone and senior prom, I think, definitely qualifies itself as a milestone. This was the last big thing I’d been looking forward to before graduation, and now only that remains. Monday greeted me with packages in the mail from the college and pending housing applications that demanded to be filled out. It was a snap back to reality and an ugly one at that. So now we’re in the final stretch. This is it.