In my junior year, I worked up enough courage to ask a girl to the prom. She just shook her head and laughed ... then she told her friends, and they laughed, too. When the teachers found out, it became a joke - they would ask me at the beginning of every class if I had a prom date yet, and then chuckle or giggle even before I had a chance to answer.
In my senior year, I worked up a list of 27 girls to ask to the prom. Each one of them turned me down. Not so much laughter that time, but it was humiliating, nonetheless. The teachers were like, "Is everyone looking forward to the Prom? Everyone except Fnordie, of course..."
On prom night, my sister went with her date. As soon as they left, my dad started expressing his anger and disappointment in having a son who couldn't get a date. He accused me of being gay (which was a Really Bad Thing back in the 1970s), of lying about the girls I'd asked, of being stupid, of being lazy, and of just about everything his alcohol-soaked brain could think of. Then he banished me to the garage overnight to "think about it".
Did I go to the prom?
HELL NO!
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