Call Me Old-Fashioned

I could be bitter and say PROM SUCKS and leave it at that. I could say it's a stupid tradition where girls get made up to look like life-size barbie dolls with hair that would break your finger if you poked it and guys who hate taking millions of pictures and then have to get stabbed with a miniature version of a flower that would have all the other flowers saying, "You call yourself a flower?" that are now selling at 40 bucks a pop. I could say that prom was better back in the day, where there were a few things guaranteed.

ONE: Every girl had a date.
So yeah, I got asked to prom. But it wasn't by a crush, or an ex-boyfriend, or a best friend, or someone extraordinarily smokin'... it was by...a boy. That's all I can really say because I don't even know the kid. So yeah, I could have said yes. That's what everyone was telling me to do.

"Awww, Natashaaaa...go with himmmmm! Don't go alooonnnne...awwww...."
"Natashaaaaaa...it will be fuuuunnnnn...just gooooo..."
"Awwww Natashaaaaaa...don't go if you don't have a daaaaatteeee...that's laaaammmmeee...awwwww..."

Just because you say "awww" doesn't mean I didn't hear the "that's lame." And for the record, stressing certain syllables and dragging out your words so you waste my damn time doesn't make me feel any less pathetic.

So NO, I'm not going with a boy I barely know. Because then I'd have to TAKE PICTURES with him, and years later my kids would ask, "Who's that?" And what kind of a slut would I look like when I said, "I don't really remember." Then I'd have to DRIVE with him, and what would we talk about? English class? And then I'd have to DANCE with him, and for some reason a boy asking a girl to prom gives him permission to put his hands on her body, and yeah, call me old-fashioned, but no stranger is gettin' near this ass.

TWO: Everyone had GOOD CLEAN FUN.
These days there's the Pre-Prom Party, the After Party, and the After-After Party. I'll give you the deets on one: the After Party. We pull up and there's a woman standing in the lawn yelling, "FIVE DOLLARS FOR PARKING!" What is this, Disneyland? And no, she wasn't joking. So we were thinkin' WE got jipped when it turns out most of the people there paid an extra 10 for beverages that ceased to even exist. Six compliments on my red lipstick, three comments on my red lipstick (a compliment and a comment are two totally different things), and one kid asks me if I have something against lesbians. That's when we decide to dip-set and head on out to the After-After Party. What ever happened to a good ol' game of Spin the Bottle?

THREE: Nothing was expected of the female that night because everyone went to church and everyone followed the Bible.
Drunk Guy #1: "I have a lot of money. I'll take you out to the nicest places...you like mini-golf?"
Drunk Guy #2: "I don't want to have sex with you, baby, I wanna make loooovvveee to you."
Drunk Guy #3: "I just want to get to know you, that's it. I'm not like these other guys who just want you for sex, I just want to talk to you, and maybe we will end up, you know, but that's will be after I talk to you, I want to get to know you before we...you know...just come upstairs with me and we'll share this bottle here. Let me get to know you..."
Drunk Guy #4: Are you 18? Because if not I'm not interested.

FOUR: Dancing would be composed of twisting and shouting.
That's right. TWISTING. and then SHOUTING. That's all. None of this GRINDING and TAKIN' IT TO DA FLO' as you kids are calling it these days. No more rubbing your ass in some guy's crotch so you can feel his thing in your back. No no, there was none of that back in the day. No songs saying, "She wanna lick me like a lollipop." No no, none of that.

One thing that truly sucked about the dancing was when I was at my high: dancing like there's no tomorrow, popping it here, shaking it there, and then BAM! SLOW SONG. Every couple sucks together like vacuums and I'm forced to awkwardly walk off the dance floor because the mood has IMMEDIATLEY changed and I'm not going to stand on the dance floor crying my eyes out listening to some chick singing about how she can't breathe with no air. AS IF WE DIDN'T KNOW THAT. But what do I do when I'm off the dance floor? No, I'm not going to the buffet because that's just even more pathetic. So, I stand awkwardly to the side of the dance floor looking like a depressed dateless freak. This NEVER would have happened in the good ol' days.

But I'm not bitter. Because what people don't know are the benefits of not having a date. Without one, I could be The Moocher, the one who mooches off every other girl's dates just to piss them off. Then their dates will be thinkin MAN! I SHOULDA TAKEN NATASHA! Without one, I didn't have to buy a lame excuse of a flower or hairspray my hair till it couldn't move. Without one, I could wait till the day before prom to buy my dress and I didn't have to shave my legs. THAT'S RIGHT. Dates. Pshhh! Who needs em?! Without one, I COULD GET ON ANYBODY. And yes, I do mean any. BODY.