A Night of Romance

Tell me your best romantic story. Here’s mine….

One evening several years ago, my husband and I were sitting around talking about the “good old days”. High school to be exact. I told him I’d never gone to a prom. Junior or Senior. I was never asked. He was astounded as he thinks I’m a pretty cute thing that would charm any boy into asking her to the prom.

I have developed my wily feminine skill set over the years.

In junior high, I was so shy that when we had school dances, I would sit stiffly in the metal folding chair and stare at the wood bleacher floor all the while watching as sneaker-clad boy’s feet walked to the girls on the left and right of me, but never ever stopping in front of me. I was a great watcher of feet and ever hopeful that a set of them would eventually walk my way. Never happened. I have a theory. Boys don’t pick girls who stare at the floor and don’t smile. It’s just plain freaky and shows no signs of being an interesting person who knows how to dance or talk and it’s hard enough for a boy to dance and talk to a girl in junior high.

Same problem in high school. I went to the dances with my girlfriends, but stood in the corner as they were whisked away for a fast twirl. I think I was still into staring at the floor.

It wasn’t until my senior year, and later half of the year, that I gained some insight into attracting boys. French, and a little black cocktail dress borrowed from my older sister did the trick.

I had joined the French Club and we came up with a skit for the whole school during some rally thing. The skit had various French characters. The club members picked me to be the French can-can girl. I was astounded. Either they saw some French floozy-skirt-tossing attributes which eluded me, or no one else wanted the job.

So, there I was swinging my hips and walking out on the football field wearing my sister’s little black cocktail dress and a feather plume in my hair. Whistles and ya-hoos were called out from the boys in the crowd.

Oh, so this is all it takes? Several of the boys in my history class took on a new light in their eye when they discovered I was the can-can girl. Eat your hearts out boys.

I just realized as I’m writing this that the French Incident was the moment I discovered the power of womanhood. A little black cocktail dress, a swing of the hips, and a smile. So that’s the key to popularity with the boys.

As I said, my husband felt badly that I missed out on the fun of a prom. He went to the prom. He was on the football team. Those guys went to everything. Jock.

He left the room, got several of our “oldie” cd’s, put them in the player, and came over to my chair. “Can I have this dance?”

Makes me get tears in my eyes just thinking about that night.

We danced and talked about our teachers and the football game coming up. In short, for a brief time he took me back to being a high school girl with nothing more to worry about than the guy I was dancing with and whether or not he might ask me out again. It was magical and sweet and romantic beyond anything I’ve ever done in my life.

At the end of the evening, he left me for a minute and when he came back he had his high school letter-sweater. He asked me if I would be his girl.

Yes. Now and forever.