When I was in high school, I didn’t get asked to dances. This may have been because I was a Jerk Face, or it may have been because I had a boyfriend serving an LDS mission. Either way, the fact remains that the only dances I went to were girls’ choice.
When I was a senior, I was *this close* to getting asked to prom by Tom, who I’d been dating, but a few weeks before Asking Season began, I had to end things with him. I held on to the hope that Tom would ask me to Prom despite our break-up, but he didn’t. During the last few weeks before Prom, our situation got ugly. Tom would hang around girls to make me jealous, and I’d hang around guys with the same intent. I even went so far as to ask a guy to walk down the hall with me during fourth period and hold my hand so Tom would see us from his History class.
That’s Jerk Face Britt for ya!
I soon learned that Tom had asked a gorgeous, little soccer player to prom. I was pissed, and Tom was thriving on the idea that I’d broken up with him and didn’t have a date.
I had a habit of running to Scotty’s brother, Lyle, anytime a guy was mean to me. Lyle would come up with some elaborate scheme that allowed me to get revenge, so as I’d done in times before, I called him to see what he’d recommend.
Lyle had a plan. He would take to prom, and I was told to tell Tom that I’d been asked to prom by a guy named Dusty Rivers. “Dusty” was a childhood friend, a successful football player and bull rider, who moved to Oklahoma a few years back. He’d be visiting Utah the week of prom and was so infatuated with me that he begged me to let him take me to Prom.
Tom soon learned that I’d been asked to prom after all, but when the dance rolled around, a few things didn’t go according to plan.
Lyle picked me up for Prom wearing khaki pants and a green button-down shirt, the kind of ensemble that would stand out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of formal black and white. I’d told him that he didn’t need to worry about renting a tux, and I assumed he’d wear one of his suits, but that’s Lyle for you. He clashed terribly with my navy blue dress, and it was too late to do anything about it, so away we went looking a little too much like Jed and Elly May Clampett.
As a formality, Lyle took me out to dinner before the dance where we had a little run-in with an attractive waitress. Lyle spent our dinner gawking at himself in the mirror directly across from our booth and asking whether I thought said waitress liked him.
As soon as I could distract Lyle long enough to get him out of the restaurant, we headed up to the University of Utah where Prom was being held.
When we arrived at the ballroom we were immediately approached by someone who recognized Lyle. We hadn’t considered that some of the people at Prom might know him. We’d encountered a slight glitch in our plan, and to make matters worse, the administrators of the school seemed to think that Lyle was there to chaperone and kept insisting that he stand by the doors to the courtyard.
To our dismay we had to abandon Operation Dusty Rivers and face the fact that I was at Prom with Scotty’s brother instead of a mysterious man from Oklahoma.
As the night went on, I searched the dance floor for Tom. I wanted to be where he could see me but not talk to me. Lyle and I shared a few awkward dances, but slow dancing just didn’t seem right with my future brother-in-law, so we stole some flowers from the centerpieces, put them in our mouths, and jokingly twirled each other around the floor until Lyle informed me that he’d been fighting off a stomach ache for hours, and things were about to get ugly.
Lyle and I dashed out of the dance and found refuge in the truck. Lyle insisted he couldn’t drive because he might shart, so I took over at the wheel while he lay down on the seat and moaned.
After a painful ride home, the night ended with me bolting out of the vehicle so Lyle could drive himself to the nearest toilet.
The worst of it? Tom didn’t even see me there.
Do you have a prom story to share? Post it and send the link to Loralee.
I just found out that most of the pictures I’ve uploaded on this blog have vanished from my posts. Dude! That bites!