I'm doing this in 3 parts, Prom, Summer and The End. Here's Prom. Apologies for the text wall.

Ok, a little backstory first. Let's call the girl Chantal, because that's her name. My parents and Chantal's parents had known each other for years, they went to the same church when my parents were growing up, they came to my parents wedding, they were at my baptism, my parents were at Chantal's, and a few years after my parents moved to a smaller branch of the same church, her parents eventually did too. Her family lived out in the country a ways and had a big lawn and horse pasture, and were always the ones hosting bonfires for the church kids, christmas parties, that kind of stuff. She actually went to my high school for a little while my freshman year (school of choice laws in Michigan being pretty lax) until she decided she didn't like the larger school. (I graduated with 190, she graduated with 85)

Chantal and I had always been friendly, but my junior year of high school I started to be interested in her beyond just the 'Wow! She's hot!' kind of way. And she is HOT. She is about 5'7, light brunette and shapely, rode horses competitively, did a bunch of modeling for a teen style site, she was the best listener and confidant a teenage boy could ask for, and had a smile that made you want to be a better person. We started talking regularly on Facebook and text in the winter of my junior year, her senior year, nothing serious, just a sort of mutual journal/diary kind of thing. Fast forward to two weeks before my junior prom and we were talking on Facebook about my inability to decide who to ask to prom, who would say yes if I asked them, and she mentioned that she hadn't gone to any of her school dances because of drama with other girls, but she bought a dress for her senior homecoming she never wore. I finally grow a pair, after months of stressing, and ask her if she would go to my prom with me, as friends. She enthusiastically agrees, to the point that her mom mentioned to my mom later that she was smiling more just around the house. She sends me the color code for the dress and I match it to a tuxedo (Black suit, white shirt, Royal Blue vest, bowtie and cufflinks) and order a bouquet and corsage (White roses and Stargazer lilies, look it up) My best friend and I decided rather than try and tack on to an existing large prom party we would do just us and our dates. We make plans for dinner at the fanciest (At least most expensive) restaurant, and photos at the small park by the river that goes through town. A few days before the dance I drove over to her house to drop off something, I can't remember what, and she wasn't home, but her Dad was, and he sat me down, and told me that he respected me, and that he wouldn't have anyone else take his daughter to a dance, because he knew that I would respect her. Now, to the super self-conscious 16 year old OftenBen, that was a massive boost to my confidence. So, the day of the dance comes, the first beautiful saturday in late may, with a very slight rain early in the morning, so the whole world felt fresh. I woke up at 8, and had my Dad's Suburban (Which I was using for the dance) cleaned, inside and out, before 10 and picked up my bouquet and corsage, which I obsessively checked against my tux for color. I sat around until about 5 o clock and convinced myself I had to shower 2 hours before I had to pick her up, and now that I'm showered, I might as well put on my tux. I drive to pick her up, AC blasting to try and keep myself calm, and watch my speed so I get to her house exactly 5 minutes before I'm supposed to be there. I walk in with the bouquet and corsage, and her mom tells me to sit down, Chantal's still getting ready. I sit for what feels like an eternity, just talking to her mom about the restaurant we're going to for dinner, feeling like i'm about to get married, and her Dad calls down the stairs, “She's ready.” At this point, my heart is doing things an F1 engine would find impressive, and she walks down. Walk is really the wrong word. Most people walk, this girl... Glided. Her hair cascaded (Seriously, only applicable word) around her face, framing it like fine art, and her bare shoulders had that glow that people only get from hours and hours outside, not just tanning. The dress was royal blue, and strapless, a graceful waterfall that bundled between her bosom into a trio of rhinestone diamonds. I had planned on being speechless and managed to avoid cracking my voice when I just said “Hey! You look (pause) great!” We took a few pictures at her parents house and went to meet my best friend and his date for dinner. Not to brag, but I had the hotter date. We order an appetizer, something in the family of a bruschetta and then wayyy too much food. Really luckily Chantal and my friends date found a mutual interest in Bones, and did most of the talking during dinner, allaying my fears that with a small group we would just sit around awkwardly. My friend and I split the bill and we head to the park for pictures, and for some reason, that I can't explain to this day, it never occurred to me to put my arm around her for a single picture. The photos are nice, but thinking back, it would have been the simplest thing in the world. We go to the dance, which is held in the ballroom of a hotel by MSU, walk around a bit and chat with some of my friends and a few of hers that she got to know a bit when she went to my school, when one of my friends pulls me aside while the girls are comparing something about their shoes, and says “Dude, how did you get her? It's all anyone has been talking about since you guys got here, we thought you were making her up.” At that point my ego swells to bursting as I'm thinking “I finally showed these pretentious snots that OftenBen isn't just that kid with the heart condition, he's SOMEBODY.” Because that's what I thought being respected meant back then, having other people be jealous of your girlfriend/date. We start dancing, and it very quickly becomes quickly evident that neither of us are on this date as 'just friends.' Not to be too graphic about it, but the kids these days call it grinding. And whenever we go somewhere in the ballroom and attached areas for food, pictures or anything else, I notice that heads are turning as we go by, arm in arm, something I was completely ignorant of when we first arrived, and multiple guys take me aside to give me the same opinion that my first friend had “Dude, you're either lucky or the smoothest guy ever” or some variation thereof. Eventually midnight comes, and everyone files out and Chantal and I have to turn down a few invitations to after parties, because I said I would have her home by one. We stop and get hot chocolate from a 24/7 coffee shop on the way back to the car, my tux jacket around her shoulders, holding hands, and I drive her home, not wanting the night to end. It turns out her parent's weren't waiting up for us, so she changed out of her dress and we sat on her couch for a while, just talking about nothing, finishing our drinks. I had memorized some poetry, because I had heard once on Garrison Keillor that that was something a guy did for prom, but I sadly forgot it. I eventually walk to the door to leave, each step an exercise in willpower, and as I turn to leave, she takes my hand, kisses my cheek and says that she had a great time, and that if she had to only go to one dance in high school she was glad it was this one. I play it cool at the time, sweating buckets instantly, saying I did too, and that I'll text her when I get home. We hug and I get in my car, hanging my still perfumed tux coat on a hanger in the back, and I maintain my composure until the end of her driveway, when I let out something between a howl and a roar of excitement, and blast a mix cd I had made all the way home, windows down, singing at the top of my lungs.

Edit* These are really therapeutic to write.