You ever have that girl that just won’t stop riding your jock? That was Stacy. Stacy was…not my cup of tea. I mean she wasn’t bad looking and had a fat ass, but I just wasn’t feeling her. But boy was she into me and though I’m not proud of it, this was a mountain I was trying to descend like the fires of Hades were on my ass. Let me set the stage.

High School. Mid-2000s. Coldplay, Outkast, Beyoncé, and Eminem were stupid popular and minimum wage was $5.15 an hour. Me, an up and coming Junior. Stacy, a semi-popular Senior girl in yearbook club. Prom season.

Also keep in mind the number 84.

In an effort to get more plugged in at school, I decided to join more clubs, one of which Stacy was a member. Now at the time I had clue what degree of crazy I was stepping into, but things started off innocently enough so we developed a working relationship and even agreed to emcee an assembly program in front of the whole school together. This is when the slope started slipping. Stacy thought it would be ‘cute’ if we changed outfits multiple times and wore matching colors during the assembly. I politely declined that tomfoolery. Stacy wanted people to know we were in sync and together and I told her we aren’t involved like that. There is no need for cuteness. The assembly went off without a hitch sans outfit and color changes and after that episode I decided to scale back my time with Stacy, for my own sanity. *Sidenote*: this was due mostly to the fact that after the show she believed we had a connection and wouldn’t stop hanging around me and sitting at my table during lunch

Weeks pass and prom season is in full swing. The seniors are all excited to make lasting memories with lovers and friends; juniors are reflecting how dumb prom sounds and not looking forward to renting a tux next year (at least the guys are). All the while Stacy’s blowing up my phone on the regular practically begging me to take her to prom since she was single, a senior, and didn’t want to go by herself. I had no interest in prom.

“Prom for juniors is stupid”, I said.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, please don’t make me go by myself. I want you to come with me, pretty please”, she pleaded.

“No thanks”, I said not very politely.

“If you come, I promise you’ll have a good time. I’ll make it special for you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Maybe you’ll get lucky….if you come.”

“Oh?” (I’m was still a virgin at the point in my young life) Alright let’s just go as friends, okay. But no crazy stuff.”

To be clear, I didn’t concede to yes because of sex, but I had a reputation to uphold and I was known as a nice guy so I was trying to help a friend in need. (Sex was like the #2 reason.)

Now to skip all the boring parts, here are the highlights of the events leading up to the week of Prom: Stacy telling all her friends about how her “boyfriend” was taking her to prom, me denying this and threatening to pull out of the arrangement. Stacy wanting to arrive to prom in a horse-drawn carriage and me saying “hell no!” Stacy continually cramming horse-drawn carriage down my throat because it’s romantic and me saying “HELL NO!!!” and finally Stacy telling everyone we are taking a carriage to prom and me caving to spare her embarrassment and me a loss of cool points.

Prom night is here, Stacy and Lucy, (my second date and Stacy’s super-sexy friend) arrive at my house AND Stacy has just stabbed me multiple times while putting my on boutonniere….now my rented shirt and tux has my DNA all over it. That’s the start of a great night.

Stacy and Lucy are looking fuckin’ hot. I’m starting to feel this night and thinking I might get very lucky if I play my cards right (yes, I’ll take the sex for three, please). Now the plan for the evening was dinner with friends at a fancy restaurant downtown, followed by a carriage ride for the three of us to the prom. My job was to take car we came in over to the prom parking lot for later and walk back to the restaurant to arrive together in the carriage. That was the plan.

How the plan actually happened was very different, mostly because Stacy just was too much. At the restaurant she wouldn’t stop flirting with me, kissing on me, playing footsies with me, and generally all up in my grill. I was just not feeling it. It was overwhelming, slightly embarrassing, and honestly rude. Servers aren’t trying to take your order when someone’s kissing all over your face.

By the conclusion of dinner, I was done with all….this and was ready to get to prom and have this night conclude (even without some sexy time). So, I left cash for the check, drove my ass over to the prom thinking, “How’d I get myself into this mess?”. Sitting in the parking lot, watching all these happy, smiling faces heading into prom, my little shoulder devil pops up (I only have one and he’s not good or evil, just indifferent. His name is Leroy) and the internal conflict began. Before Leroy could convince me either way, a buddy of mine knocks on the car window, compliments me on my tux, and invites me to come in with him. Without a second thought, I say, “Sounds cool. Let me get my jacket.” And that boys and girls is how you ditch your date(s) for prom and arrive 37 minutes before them and have the time of your life. Par-Tay!

Some observations that occurred between the car and the time my very pissed-off dates arrived:

DON’T view seeing your favorite teacher and his wife arriving to prom in a horse-drawn carriage and him saying, “The ride was fun. You should take it.” as an ill omen

DO have as much fun as you can, before the hammer (or in this case a 4in heel) comes down on you like the holy might of Zeus

DON’T try and rationalize how leaving your dates at the restaurant, forcing them to walk 6 blocks in heels and dresses was the best for everyone

DO apologize to your date(s) for making them beyond fashionably late and sweaty before prom

Needless to say my dates arriving was very uncomfortable, but what can you do? You might answer “not be an asshole”, “tell her the truth”, or “just suck it up”. All are reasonable, but I was young, plus she was a little bit crazy.

Now prom itself was fine except for the moment when I clearly asked, “Stacy, do you want to go and take pictures while the line is short?” Her response- “No, let’s do it later.” Later turned out to be 20 minutes after prom had concluded. What the FUCK? I had changed into my street gear and was ready for some after party action, but noooooooooo. This chick now wants to take pictures and I’m royally pissed. Grudgingly, I threw back on my tux sans shoes and socks because I knew Lucy and I couldn’t leave until Stacy had these damn pictures so I told the photographer to snap from the shin up. Stacy wanted to show off her heels and I told her “well hold those damn shoes in your hands then” and she did. At this point we have missed out on the party caravans so like other squares we went to the alternative late-night hangout spot, IHOP!

*Sidenote*: The car ride to the HOP was the weirdest pleasure/pain I’ve ever experienced sexually in life still to date. Lucy is driving and Stacy and I are in the backseat and she starts making the moves, rubbing over me with her feet, grabbing at my crotch, and necking all on me. Clearly she wanted the D and I was willing to comply. That was all good and fine until she shoved her hands in my pants and tried to break my dick off! I mean literally she just grabbed my gentle giant and started tugging me with her sandpaper hands all the while I have the face of a baby eating a lemon for the first time. It was the worst and then her nasty talk was just gross. I was severely turned off and repeated asked her to remove her appendages from my bod. After a bit more tug ‘o war and some nice views of ‘peaks’ and subterraneous “cavern” we arrived at IHOP with my virginity intact. Thank goodness!

Well that’s pretty the much story, but here are a few fun afterthoughts:

When people are tired of dealing with your craziness all night (and just plain tired), don’t stupidly play around and tease while someone is behind the wheel of a car. You may be hit. Sucking on one’s own breast will always be hot, even when I’m not sexually attracted to you. Attempting to suck your own toes not so much.

Finally back to that number 84 I mentioned at the beginning. That was my grade for the night that Stacy gave me when I walked her to the front door. So basically having a prom date who barely likes you, getting ditched and forced to walk multiple blocks in heels, chronically having your sexual advances rebuffed, and getting hit by a car (by your date), and a person can still achieve a B? Sounds about right.

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