So, I’m just going to throw it out there. Back in high school, my life was downright fucking awesome. Not only was I the captain of the track team, but no one in the county could outrun the great James “Was-That-The-Wind-Just-Now” Asher (yours truly). I held record for the hundred meter dash (just 11.02 seconds, mind you. Go check. The record still stands today). I mean, I did well enough in school, which seemed to please my parents. My dad could care less about the occasional C or D. He grew up fixing cars for a living. The crap we talked about in senior AP English (Literary Composition through from the Dawn of blah blah blah) hardly caught his attention, or mine, for that matter. The teachers loved me no matter what. I brought them win after win, giving the school something to be proud of. That was enough, right? And the best part? Prom was right ‘round the corner, and I was accompanying Pamela Stewart, the single-most attractive girl on the track team. This was objectively determined, mind you. She survived the jocks’ rating system with an outstanding nine point three out of ten (individual categories being ass, tits, and thighs). Basically, Prom was going to be the perfect little exclamation mark punctuating this marvelous statement of awesomeness which was my high school experience.
It was going to be damn fine… That is, until I got a boyfriend.
Dan and I had been dating for a month or two before the prom, in total secrecy, of course. Neither of us had the faintest idea we were into each other. Before all this, he and I would just chill after class, play a game or two. Super Smash Brothers was an amazing time waster. He was the cutest thing, clutching that awkwardly-shaped N64 controller, tongue poking past his lips, trying oh-so-hard to send Link (my character) flying into oblivion with a well-timed smash attack. Ah. Memories.
I’ll spare you the details of how I asked him out. It’s an Oscar-worthy story, mind you. It’s filled with some wonderfully-awkward dialogue. “Wait, you knew I was gay? Did the Adam Lambert poster give it away? Please don’t let anyone know. You don’t hate me, do you…? What..? You like me…? Oh, now you’re shitting me.” I hear that type of story’s common. It’s a little hard to pull of that corny romance scene when you’re not sure if the guy of your dreams is going to deck you in the face for checking him out.
Anyway, Prom, right. Dan wouldn’t stop mentioning it, and it was breaking my heart to be accompanying the subject of the entire football team’s desire instead of my partner. How could I deny them their chances? This was going to be the highlight of their entire life, anyway. Pamela took the news well enough. “You’re going with a guy…? So you’re like a fag, then?” And my parents did, too. “How long have you been dating? Don’t tell your mother, it’ll crush her.” And last but not least, the principal. “We don’t allow that sort of thing to happen here. The tickets are marked for one man and one woman only.” And this was true. Tacked to my wall are two tickets, stylishly themed in black and white to fit the retro theme the prom committee fought endlessly over. In tiny, used-car-dealership font, “Men’s Ticket” and “Women’s Ticket” were printed along the bottom.
At this point, Dan was entirely invested in going. One night, while he combed his fingers through my hair (he had a fascination with doing that, just idly combing, messing it up just to reset it in its place), he told me how he never went to his own prom. His boyfriend at the time would never show affection in public, let alone out himself to his entire class. Perhaps I was worried that Dan would think of me just like his ex, which I know is stupid now. We would have stayed together even if we never went to the prom, but I made it my goal to get him into that dance.
After outing myself to Faith, one of my closest friends (“Oh snap, I always wanted a gay friend!”), we ended up confronting the principal together. No progress was made, but we did receive a much needed clarification. “I only want to see a mix of dresses and tuxes out there. It’s how we’ve always run the dances, and I don’t intend on making any crazy liberal exceptions for one student.” With a bit of wild dreaming from Faith, and my own persistence vision of bringing Dan to the prom, we formulated a plan.
Dan and I arrived that night, arm-in-arm, approaching the concealed gymnasium doors stylishly painted black and white. All tuxes were to be black and white, and all dresses were to be black and white. I could see inside—not a person stood out. I knew Phil “The Goon” was inside, along with the rest of the track team. I couldn’t make out one of their faces in the sea of monochrome. Principal Stick-Up-His-Ass was taking tickets by the door along with a few National Honor Society members. We staked out the area, waiting for the principal to leave his post for just a moment before we made our grand entrance. Dan went first, and I followed as closely as possible, fumbling and risking breaking my ankles each and every step.
Tim was at the door. You know in cartoons when a character’s eyes bug out to the size of dinner plates? I never thought I’d see it for real. “Christ, James, what the hell is this? Where’s Pam?”
I did my best to carry on, feigning normalcy. “She’s off with Ted. Y’know, the football captain. She seems to have a thing for captains.”
Tim scanned us, one at a time. He ran track, but he had a bit of muscle on him. “Just be careful in there, alright? Let me know if anyone gives you a hard time.”
I expected an even greater reaction, but I knew how these things went in high school. What was secret between Faith and me was sure to be spread all about the school in the matter of… Oh, about twenty-two hours, three minutes and fifty-two seconds, give or take the time friends-of-friends-of-friends on Facebook hear. Dan led me inside, looking absolutely stunning in his rented tux, all prim and neat.
I followed in behind, wearing the only ‘acceptable’ outfit Principal Stick-Up-His-Ass couldn’t fight, Faith’s ill-fitting prom dress from last year, too slack about the hips and dragging about the floor. We had met the principal half way—dress and tux. The night went well, and hardly a soul knew we were there. The monochrome wave of people pulled us into comfortable obscurity. Of course, that didn’t save us from the odd comment here, or awkward point and giggle from the preppy girls. Most of my peers would find out from the Facebook promptly posted and tagged that very night.
Sandra Marie We had homos at the prom?! Why didn’t anyone point them out?
May 12 at 2:52am • Comment • Like
…They weren’t all like that, y’know.
Sara Spears Aw! James, you’re so cute! Way to stand up for yourself. <3
May 12 at 2:59am • Comment • Like
It was hard, at first, dealing with this new public part of myself. Luckily my mother was entirely internet-inept, and didn’t join the five-hundred and three users to view my prom pictures. The other runners started avoiding me during practice. The lunch table was never crowded anymore. But for everyone I lost, I seemed to make gain someone new. It’s how I met Becky, Jacob, Laura… Y’know Laura, right? And Faith and I have been besties ever since. And y’know the best part? The prom after that had a turnout of ten, count ‘em, ten same-sex couples in attendance, each in accompanying dress and tux, as per his ruling.
Guess it was an alright experience, overall. I hate to say it, but looking back on those embarrassing-as-fuck photos makes me miss Dan. I hear he’s doing fine with the new guy. Two months they’ve been living together, now. I hope for the best. I guess a lot just floods my mind when I look at them… I see the awkward way I cling to Dan, the way he grips my shoulder, holding me close. The other hand brushing through my hair. Too much to say anything concrete.
Well, there’s one thing that comes to mind: “God, I look fucking ugly in that dress.”
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