I never had a date for either of my high school proms (junior or senior). Actually, I never had a date at any time during high school. I was, apparently undateable. I went to my junior prom with my also undateable BFF. I wore a short green taffeta and black velvet dress while she channeled Scarlet O'Hara in black and white satin. I remember very little else about that night. I can tell you that the dress I wore was purchased with donated funds since my dress money had been pick-pocketed out of my purse about 5 minutes after we arrived at the mall. (Hmm. Ignore cosmic signs much?)
When senior prom rolled around, I didn't even bother. I had accepted my undateableness and owned it. I think my mom and I went shopping. Or I stayed home and watched TV. I really don't remember.
Now, you may think that four years of being ignored by my male peers might have done something to my psyche. It did, in a way. It made me try harder. Flash forward to this weekend and the Hard Rock Cafe in Pittsburgh where I was attending a surprise birthday party for my brother-in-law. This guitar hung over the table that held the birthday cake:
What is the significance of that, you ask? Well, the signature below the band's name, Tonic, that's Emerson Hart. The guy I dated for two years while living in NYC. Who cares about all those boys who never asked me out in high school? One of my ex's has a guitar hanging in the Hard Rock Cafe.
I think that trumps a dateless prom any day.