Showing my age

It was a long and emotionally exhausting day getting ready for my first homecoming dance. My mom took me to have my hair done--her hairdresser put my hair up in a french twist. Being 14, the french twist looked too old for me. We came home and took it down--washing my hair in the bathtub and then drying and curling it. My mom also did my makeup for me, and like most of the times she did my makeup for a big occasion, I cried, claiming it was "too dark" or "too bright". Poor Mom.

Then my date arrived. We took the requisite pictures and then left for his house. His sister acted as our chauffer and her then-fiance was the maitre d' at our private restaurant. There were printed menus and everything. At that moment, I didn't truly appreciate the effort he'd put into our evening. Soon the time came and we headed over to the dance.

The most memorable part of the dance is the fact that two of us were rarely alone. My date had a stalker--her name was Shirell Parnell. (Names not changed so as to preserve the humor factor.) I had my own admirer--his name was Bobby and the four of us were quite the group. The only time M and I were truly by ourselves was when we danced the last dance--it was "End of the Road" by Boyz II Men. Wasn't the last dance of any middle school or early high school dance by Boyz II Men? Hearing a Boyz II Men song, like I did this afternoon, triggers these memories.

Just like that, it was over. While M called his mom to pick us up, Bobby sucked helium to try and impress me. I was certainly flattered but declined to give him my number--it seemed unladylike while I was someone else's date. His mom took me home and to cap off the evening, turned onto the wrong side of a divided road on the way into my neighborhood. No harm done, but just like everything else, the end of the evening was a little imperfect.