Do I look American? And don’t say you can’t see me, because that excuse won’t wash.
Now that’s incredibly unfair, because it’s now quite a popular thing over here. I don’t know if it’s translated well onto British soil, though, because I’m not overly familiar with what they do over in the States. For us, it’s just a dance at the end of secondary school, a way to say goodbye to your friends. Obviously, alcohol isn’t allowed, but after the dance, it’s off home to party until five in the morn. Doing what all 16-year-olds do at parties: drinking, crimson delight and doing the dance with the white powder daemon.
I was unusual at 16 for never having done any of this ungainly activity. Actually, I’m rather unusual now because at 22, I still haven’t done any of those ‘after-prom’ activities. Back at 16, I was chastised because of this unwillingness to be ‘cool’. Not that I cared very much. By that age, I’d spent the previous five years either sitting by myself at dinner and during class, or was being put to repeated use as a punching bag. A prom then, was the last thing on my mind.
Luckily, I didn’t have a prom. Our year had a meeting (which I, seriously, wasn’t invited to) and they decided to hold several house parties. The idea was that the students who lived in these houses would invite people within their social group. I heard afterward that these parties were just as promiscuous as I feared.
I wasn’t invited to any of them. The only person in the year who wasn’t. I know that’s true because there were several books signed by everyone who attended the parties and I was asked later on by someone to sign one because, and I quote, “you’re the only person in the year that hasn’t signed one”.
If I recall correctly, I believe my response to that person is a tad unrepeatable.
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