“It’s your choice but I think you will really regret not going”. I was almost certain she said, “for the rest of your life”, but she was whipping around the house holding a laundry basket at a breakneck speed. My mom was referencing my prom and how I would be forever traumatized by not attending due to my boyfriend who was pushing 40 (mid 20’s). I went to all girls Catholic School, apparently this was the area they were firm on.
I threw myself on my bed and threw on The Smiths “Hand In Glove”. I thought of my crush, Zack. A senior who constantly tossed his blonde hair off his face by tossing his head, an act I studied so intensely he seemed to move in slow-motion . On the rare occasions he spoke to me I developed a stutter. He asked me to Homecoming at Denny’s one night. It was my first real “date” or at least one I would tell my mom about and one that did not take place in a corn field. My dating life had been limited to making mixtapes. I had a wide variety of issues, once I stopped wearing my heart monitor and my headgear was off things picked up.
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