Boyfriend Chronicles #4 / Spicy Pork & Mustard Green Soup
Even though I had a dramatic exit, (see the last post) my anger faded fast and we were back together within days. My temper is like the high tide, as soon as it reaches its peak it immediately starts to recede. We went on having our usual ups and downs. My high school world was different from many but I got to enjoy some of the normal things. Cramming too many of us in an old beat-up Volvo headed to the beach followed by eating the amount of taco bell only teenagers can consume. Making plans for the ever disappointing Senior Prom. It seems the more built-up something is in your youth is equal to how disappointed you will be with it. I was too excited for prom, I should have known that could only mean it would not go at all as I expected.
The best memory I have of prom is my dress. My boyfriend’s mother was an avid sewer and a sweet caring woman who offered to make my dress. I designed my own prom dress and she sewed it exactly to my picture. If you sew you will understand how talented this woman is to have sewn a crazy teenage girl’s imaginings. She did it though. There I was in my low back, ruched train goth/punk rock princess gown topped off with a crown of insane curls. My god, my blackberry lipstick. Does anybody else remember that horrible color? Do you know what color doesn’t look good an a pale, freckled face? We all loaded up into the classic Cougar and headed off.
Dinner table full of teenagers with little money making the waitress wonder if today is the day she starts drinking at work, check. Posed group pictures, check. First dance with dapper boyfriend, nope seems he didn’t dance. First dances with gay religion teacher and Sister Daniela, check and check. That’s right my dance partner at prom was a nun. A kick-ass nun that would have us mental health breaks in algebra. Most of the night is a blur as prom should be.
It just got blurrier as we headed to the hotel to continue the party. Now properly intoxicated I started to worry. We all know what is supposed to happen on Prom night. Now see, I had promised myself to remain a virgin till I graduated, I knew even at that young age that the only hope I had to get to where I wanted in life is to not risk getting pregnant. I was having an internal battle on what to do. It was so close to graduation so did it matter? Yet I had almost reached my goal. As it turned out I had nothing to worry about. I don’t know if it was nerves or just teenage stupidity but my consumption of alcohol did not slow down during the night. At one point I laid down still donning my prom attire. My boyfriend found me and what started out as kissing ended up as an argument, that to this day I can’t quite remember. Well at one point the anger and alcohol joined and just as I was about to go all out the alcohol took the lead and sent me careening to the only restroom. I have fuzzy memories of my now medusa style curls bent over the toilet praying for my body to release the suffering. Unfortunately, there is no privacy when you have 6 drunk teenagers and one bathroom. A figure appeared behind me and I could hear him mumbling and heard the unzipping. In horror, I realized that my head was now at risk of being a urine backsplash. Some sweet soul seeing the crossing of the streams about to happen gently moved my now crying body to over the tub. I’m not sure how long I sat with my head on the ever healing cold porcelain, it was long enough that almost everyone had passed out. I walked out to my boyfriend in bed with not me, fully clothed by the way. Instead of anger, immediate sadness hit. I stumbled my overdressed ass to the kitchenette and found the one soul who somehow managed to keep his shit together. My high school best friend. A man that the only thing larger than his height was his caring gentle soul. There he was and I realized I had barely spoken to him all night. Next to him was the largest bag of Doritos I had ever seen. So there we sat on the kitchen floor a giant bag of Doritos between us. That is how I woke up the next morning. Still, in my prom dress, hair going all directions it shouldn’t physically be able to go, my death magenta lipstick smeared across my face and my fingers a lovely shade of nacho cheese orange. I had fallen asleep next to my best friend using a bag of Doritos as a pillow. I realize now I wouldn’t change a thing. I spent my prom night not regretting decisions but sitting on a kitchen floor with one of my favorite people laughing until I passed out. For years I thought I knew who my true high school love was. I was wrong it wasn’t my fiery emotional relationship it was my ever-loving, the adventure takes. Kitchen floor Dorito eating bestie. Life lesson number 465: What at the time seems like a complete disappointment may just end up being one of your fondest memories.
