The Post-High School Dance

I'm sure this post will step on somebody's toes, but I never claimed that I didn't have two left feet.

As a 24-year-old single gal, I'm fully aware of the crazy things that young girls do for love. I've even been a victim/perpetrator of some of the craziness, but I feel that the past few years have mellowed my taste in whirlwind fairy-tales. If anything, the thought of having a chick-flick-esque romance leaves me rolling my eyes instead of swooning.

That's why I was so glad to leave the era of the high school dance. I never really loved the big hurrah that girls (and guys, for that matter) make out of an awkward evening, but in Utah it is an especially big deal. You can count on people asking each other at least a month in advance. The asking goes beyond a casual phone call and, "Hey, are you free this Friday?" No. We have to outdo ourselves, making elaborate (and expensive) gestures to let the recipient know just how badly we want to go to the dance with them. Then, we wait for a reply, which makes a three-letter word into a three-hour charade, with girls unwrapping hundreds of Starbursts just find the one chewy candy marked yes.

Gag me.

Well, I haven't thought much about high school dances since, well, high school. I thought they were a thing that I could leave in that era of bad fashion and 10:00 curfews. I was wrong.

I'm sitting in my bedroom right now as my (freshman) roommate prepares for the dance tomorrow. They're cutting hair and primping, talking about how they asked their dates and how they have yet to find the perfect dress. Her bedroom is filled with balloons, and I'm filled with sorrow at the way my life continues to mimic high school foolery. It makes me sad that she still hasn't left high school. More than that, it makes me sad that, no matter how hard I try, I can't escape it, either.

Life is so much better than those three years I spent inside the Bingham bubble. I'm so glad to be done with the dances and the drama, and no matter how much you paid me, I would never go back. I acknowledge that life will always be a little bit like that awkward prom date, but I hope that I can make something better out of my experiences than that poofy ball gown and dinner at Chuck-a-Rama.

{Even Molly Ringwald agrees on the awkwardness of high school dances.}