the dance…

Had a flashback today… in my later high school years, I invited a girl I liked to go to one of the Significant Dances that my school sponsored – as opposed to the High Schools that make every dance a major event…

We had 2.

As I said, I liked the girl, but didn’t really have delusions of grandeur or thoughts that Somehow, Someway, she’d get the hots for me. I thought she was fun to hang out with. So I asked her to the dance.

We went in street clothes (vs. tuxedo & gown) to dinner at Two Guys from Italy on the corner of Moana & South Virginia (it’s gone now…) I thought Irish coffee sounded really good, so I ordered 2 – had no idea that it had whiskey in it. And the fool waiter brought them without even asking for or checking ID’s… with 2 refills each. I only found out that they had whiskey when my nose started feeling fuzzy, & the bill was $3 for each of the specialty drinks (true, inexpensive, but this was 1987. The Old Days.) I thought that a good time was had by all.

We went back to her place & changed into our specialty outfits… & went to the dance. And sat. Turns out, once we got TO the dance, she didn’t WANT to dance. Said her feet hurt. And she was tired. So she sat at a table & talked to her friends. Sigh.

I didn’t quite know what went wrong – she wouldn’t even get pictures to commemorate our great evening… I kept checking in about every 10 minutes to see if she changed her mind. She didn’t. It was rough. I had the distinct feeling that something else was going on, but she said it wasn’t me, it was her. Tired. Feet hurt. Etc.

I took her home about 90 minutes later, & our plan was to change our clothes out of the monkey suits into our street clothes, & then to go hang out with friends. (Meaning people that wanted to be sober, eat cool snax, & have lots of fun. Watch movies.) I changed my clothes, & waited for her in the living room for 15 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes. 90 minutes. And waited. I passed the time by watching TV, but grew more & more impatient. Finally, her mom came out to get some water; she didn’t know I was there… (Mental picture that still haunts me.) She asked, “What are you doing?” I explained that I was waiting for her daughter to come out so we could resume our activities for the evening. She went into her daughters room, & came out immediately – embarrassed. Sheepish. She whispered, “I’m sorry. She went to bed.”

Hmm. Later on, I heard rumors from others on the stories that she had told about her “hellish, terrible night” out with me. How stupid I looked. How lame the evening was. How bad dinner was (of which she ate 3 courses…) But every time I asked her about it, she just said, “Oh, I was tired. My feet hurt.” Even though I knew that she was telling a different story to others.

I’ve often wondered why she didn’t deem me worthy of the truth that she so willingly told her friends: She didn’t really want to go out with me, but didn’t want to miss the dance. I was a means to an end. The truth would have been appreciated.

19 thoughts on “the dance…

  1. I feel the pain of that . . .

    I can’t comment further without using the word “bitch”, which as we both know would be unkind and inappropriate . . . So I’ll just stop here . . .

  2. ouch! I am very sorry, that is so sad:( Jeni will track her down and kick her in the shins for you.

  3. that’s a very sad story. i’m very sorry for you, seems like one of these experiences that when you think of, you have to slighty gulp (hope you understand what i mean)…

  4. TPT – I know what you mean. But hey, 17 is 17 & I’ve got my own list of immature dork actions that perhaps someday I’ll blog over.

    Laura – she’s a cop now, so it would be a good idea to be sneaky about it. I like how you’re sending Jeni, the shin-kicker. You must have mafia experience ordering hits.

    Alex – yes. I know exactly what you mean by the gulp. For me it was a “double gulp…”

    I left her house & drove to my friend Mike’s only to find that the fun movie hang out had turned into a BYOB (bring your own bottle) fest that had me as one of two people that were still walking at a 90 degree angle. So I got in the BMW & drove home really fast – I think I hit 80… really.

    It was a learning experience, that’s for sure… people do this all the time – have two levels of truth – one of ‘the acceptable story’ or ‘spin’ which is plausible & held to with great tenacity. Then you have the ‘ground level truth’ which is told on the side to a few commiserating friends in private. Which means it spreads like wild-fire.

    I was sad, but I was more disappointed at the two-faced-ness.

  5. I had kind’ve a similar experience in high school. I went through 3 prom dates. The first one was a “friend” about 3 weeks out she was running her mouth about how she only wanted to go to prom with me so she could hook up with some other guy. Little did she know that she had a jealous friend or 3 who felt I should know about her true feeling and intentions. I laughed & then asked her if it was true. She started the girly cry. I said, “you’re not going to prom with me.” She apologized with weeping, but it soon turned to anger when I walked away. Ah… the good ol days.

  6. I have a friend who has done the whole two-faced-ness his his whole life. He consistantly screws himself over with these lies and it makes me sad for him and the people who get stuck in the web. I’ve known him since 3rd grade, when his answer to “what do you want to be when you grow up?” was a lawyer. Go figure.

  7. I have to admit that Ben’s story reminded me that I too was an immature b*&# in high school. I did something similar to one of my friends. Told him I would go to prom, then decided I wanted to go with someone else, but didn’t want to tell him. So, everyone but him knew that I had 2 prom dates. I wonder why I couldn’t just tell him? He had to hear from someone else and confront me. Luckily, he still talks to me to this day… he’s very forgiving:)
    For me, it goes back to people pleasing and not wanting to disappoint or confront the issue. Pretty dumb, because it always ends up worse when you don’t!

  8. I try not to kick the shins of people who can arrest me. But never fear, I will come up with something that will look like an accident. Maybe a banana peel on the sidewalk sort of thing…

    My junior prom date left me feeling equally used. I asked him to go with me (yes, I’m the one who did the asking–otherwise I would have been going alone) and he agree. But once we arrived, though he did dance with me, he spent the whole night staring at the girl he actually liked at the time and commenting that he wished she’d dance with him. Needless to say, it was almost a relief when I had to send him to dance with my best friend because her date had physically ditched her, rather than just mentally… :)

  9. ahh louie, this made me really sad for you. really, sad. i mean iknow it was along time ago but the fact that you felt or remembered it recently is just sad all over again.

  10. I didn’t even get out of the car to say goodbye to my prom date while in front of her house. That was lame.

  11. I made the mistake of ordering Irish coffee with a date, not knowing that it had alcohol in it. My date asked if I knew what was in it and I got really embarrassed. Fortunately, he thought I was cute….and still does

  12. Destro, that’s because you were saving all your cool moves for your future wife . . .

  13. I’ve heard much of these irish coffees. Are they anything like an irish car bomb?

  14. Irish car bombs are the bomb! They are way better than an Irish Coffee. An Irish Coffee is just Irish whiskey in a cup of coffee. An Irish car bomb is a shot of Irish whiskey dropped into a glass of Guiness to be consumed immediately…it is fabulous!

    Louie your blog made me so sad for you and I completely agree with Plucky and Noel with no further comment on the subject.

  15. Although, I guess it depends on the situation. An Irish car bomb wouldn’t exactly be appropriate as an “after dinner drink” now would it??

  16. That’s really sucky, Louie. Sorry. I hope you’ve been healed of those tormentuous scars and now see how good God was in sparing you from too many cool memories with ladies who weren’t going to end up being your wife. Now you have a beautiful amazing wife and lots of hot dates with her so I’d have to say you definitely got the better end of the deal when it’s all said and done. :D

  17. I know this happened 20 years ago but I still want to kick some butt. I hate thinking of you going through this. How stupid was she. You turned out to be one of the coolest people ever. I’m glad you married one of the coolest people ever too. That Bee-och is the one that missed out.

    Sorry you went through this Louie D.

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