Yes, the activities ticked off the requisite boxes and yet the Alone Girl was left sadly wanting more. The Girl was aware that Junior Prom and Senior Ball events were akin to attaining the Holy Grail amongst the pretentious posse of her perceived peers. She was not a true fit in this group but was satisfied to be part of it. Those things mattered in those days. Or so she thought.
Tired of not being asked on dates and enduring plentiful jibes at the hands of the pretentious posse, the Girl dared to ask a boy to a Sadie Hawkins type dance that winter. She thought the boy was cute and, since that was what mattered, called him on the phone to ask him to the dance. He agreed readily which surprised the Alone Girl who sorely lacked self esteem.
The dance was a success, except that the boy refused to dance. There would be no dreamy slow dancing for the Girl that night. The would-be duo “dated” for a few months. The experience mainly consisted of attending a few movies, a few parties, but only when the boy was free to attend. He didn’t initiate activities nor was he willing to spend money.
They did attend the Prom…the gala marking a significant rite of passage amongst these high school students. They made an attractive couple. True to form, the boy wouldn’t dance and refused to pay for the requisite prom pictures. Had the Girl thought about it, she would have brought money to pay for them herself.
After the prom, the couple attended a party and didn’t pass the time together. The boy drank too much, the Girl had to walk him home, and then walked herself home. A few weeks after that, the boy moved on to date another girl.
The Alone Girl carried this rejection for many decades. There had been no explanation, just a “give me my ring back.” What she didn’t understand was this was not uncommon. Due to her complete lack of knowledge about teen relationships, she would label herself a failure and feel forever a barely accepted member of a stupidly snobbish group of girls she thought were friends.
Her Senior Ball experience would be even more bizarre. A tale for another day. But wasn’t the point that she was part of it? Looking back, the Girl chastised herself for believing in its importance. Due to the emotional trauma she’d suffered for much of her young life, she was desperate for acceptance. She was in the top classes, made decent grades, was adept at athletic pursuits, and, yet, was always on the outside looking in.
It’s difficult to believe in yourself when your foundation falls apart on a consistent basis. In the 1970s girls were still second-class citizens. There was no counseling offered for those trauma-affected kids because it was the “everything is fine” era. One didn’t speak of things going wrong at home.
The Alone Girl bought into the stereotypical expectations of her era. She was woefully unprepared to exist amongst her elitist circle of peers. She dared believe they were her friends. The years have revealed who the true friends always were and still are. As for that boy, he was cute looking. It didn’t extend beyond the facade. The Girl squandered far too much time thinking this was important to resolve. Another lesson learned the hard way.
Grateful for the experience? Yes and no. It was mostly another way to appear to be “normal.”
“I walk this empty street/On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams/Where the city sleeps/And I’m the only one, and I walk alone… “. True then and true now. Song by Green Day.
Stories Are For Eternity 