existentialism on prom night
Despite what my photo may lead you to believe, prom night was not any of the following: classy, romantic, elegant, fun, unique, the best night of my life, or even particularly memorable except for the fact that it was my high school prom and really just about sums up my high school experience.
That is to say–I suppose I’m glad I went. But only so that I won’t ever, in the future, wonder what my prom would have been like. Only so that in the future, the only regrets I’ll have about prom is that I’m sorry I went. But it had to be done. And now that it’s over–at least there were lovely pictures to make it well.
This whole experience is so illogical and not at all what it’s made out to be. Think about it–everyone makes an effort to dress up formal (although, of course, how anyone interprets that is a whole different matter…) and pretend to be classy in order to go to a supposedly fancy hotel so that they can hump and grind to the worst music imaginable, get as sweaty as possible and look like utter crap at the end of the night after having had sex in public with clothes on and happily ruining the hundreds of dollars wasted on a dress, hair and makeup.
But hey–maybe I’m just bitter because I attended the best night of my life without a date. And what can be more romantic than terrible R&B and slower grinding in groping? This is especially perfect to show off the low cut dresses in the back and the front, lift up those silts until you might as well be wearing an ultra mini (or just nothing at all), and, well, act like an idiotic teenager for all to admire.
There’s really just nothing quite like it. The other good thing to come out of it? At least I’ve got lovely photos and a cute outfit. And the little after party we had with our friends was actually quite classy fun.
High school experience conquered. Thank god I won’t ever miss that.