Prom in a Nutshell: The Tucker Wallace Story

Warning: What you are about to read is X-rated, due to explicit content, such as dirty dancing, anger, confusion, tears, and vivid imagery of a Heavenly urination break sent from God himself. Parental supervision is mandatory, and reader discression is advised. 

My mother wrote a nice little piece about my prom experience in the previous blog post, but she wishes for me to fill in the gaps, and add a few details. Little does she know the mere memory of this atrocious event gives me fitful sleepless nights full of Prom flashbacks, night sweats, and the occasional bed wetting. But, in order to put this night behind me, and to preserve this memory for future generations to come, (and to make others and myself laugh at my terror), I will share with you this evening, full of anger, terror, tender mercies, and a weird convoluted love triangle that never should have been. But, in order to clear up all of my bad feelings for this night, and now for Prom itself, oneself must start a little earlier, a month or two before the night that will live in infamy. 

I did not want to go to Prom. I believe I conveyed these feelings with every human being I came in contact with, and then a few. It's expensive, dirty, and I'm not a big dancer, dances aren't fun to me, so why waste my hard earned money when I could be sitting at home watching ESPN and eating to my hearts content? I proclaimed my t.v. was my prom date on several occasions, most often followed by several high fives from the guys in earshot, and sounds of contempt for the girls, as they proclaimed me to be the devil himself, for not wanting to spend hundreds of dollars on one night, on a girl that's not my girlfriend. "That surely solved it!" I niavely thought to myself, but, alas, it wasn't to be. No, I did not give in and ask a girl to Prom, I was asked by Kylie George over facebook, yes you heard me right, over facebook. She wished to go with me due to her recent boy problems which left her without anyone to ask, except for her nice, dreamy, sexy, strong, masculine, funny, intelligent friend from church, me (my words not hers). And me being born without a spine, reluctantly agreed. 

That was about two months before prom. About a month before prom, I saw an out. I nearly cheered as I scrolled down my news feed and read,  "Kylie George Relationship status changed to 'in a relationship'". Yes! All I now have to do is express my concerns with possible awkwardness, and give her my approval of going with him instead. Fool proof plan, right? As rock solid as my proposal sounded to me, she did not seem to agree, as she tried, okay she didn't just try, she succeeded, in guilt tripping me, saying she still wanted to go with me because it would be fun, but "I guess I'll go with him if you really want me to...."  Still in shock that my master plan came up short, I agreed to still go with her, going against both my head and heart. 

My mom has relayed you the shopping involved in the affair, and as this does not merit any funny or painful memories, I will move on, as what my mom has spoke of is sufficient for me. (Yes, that was a scriptural reference in my prom story)

Kylie's plans for prom were as follows: 1. pictures at her house with her group at 4:30  2. Dinner at 6  3. Dance from 8-11  4. Her house afterwards  5. Sleepover at her house (guys included) 6. Breakfast at 6 am the next day. 

My plans for prom: 1. try to make it to her house for pictures on time (we had a temple trip that day, so getting to her house by 4:30 was going to be a stretch)  2. Dinner at 6  3. get to the dance late and leave early   4. her house for games   5. There was no way in God's green earth my parents were going to let me sleep over, and even if they would, I would've declined!  I'm pretty sure that goes against every standard of the church, and I thought she was a steady member.  6. Get home by midnight. My mom had offered to extend my curfew to 1am since it was prom and all, but I quickly refused, saying midnight was just fine, I didn't want to be at prom longer than needed be. 7. Wake up the next day at my leisure. 

Okay, now for what actually happened. A few days before Prom I specifically told Kylie I would be late for pictures, as I was attending the temple, and that seems a bit more important that a few kodak moments. Well, I returned to my home at 4:30 from the temple, and was sitting on the toilet, minding my own business, when Ilah picked up the phone and said it was for me. (I know what you're thinking, but no, this is not the urination sent from God, that will be later tonight) I was forced to rush myself, never a pleasant experience to get to the phone, and listen to an angry Kylie berate me for not being at her house and asking what I was doing. I decided not to argue, as I would lose that battle in an instant, and I did not tell her what I was doing, I'm sure she could smell it through the phone, but I apologized and told her I was on my way. She then insisted I take my mom's PT Cruiser instead of my 12 year old trusty rusty mini van. Not wanting further confrontation, I readily agreed, and, while my mom, bless her heart, cleaned bird poop off of the hood (I was in my suit and I already ruined her night, I wasn't going to make it worse by having poop on my suit), I printed off mapquest directions to her house. As I was driving away, I noticed the gas was at around a quarter of a tank, but I didn't pay it any mind, as that should suffice for the night. Well wouldn't you know it, the mapquest directions were wrong, and I end up getting there over an hour late for pictures, at which time they had just finished up. I sprinted over to her, looking as, eh, let's say agitated, as one would expect. 

At this point, I feel it appropriate to proclaim the several fallacies of prom as I see them. A few words words of wisdom from Tucker. One, first and foremost, people, generally girls, put so much pressure on prom, so if one minor detail in their convoluted fantasy goes a-rye, the whole night goes down the pooper. For example, at dinner, one guy ordered a burger, so, as to not get anything on his tux, as hamburgers aren't the cleanliest of foods, he thought it appropriate to tuck the napkin into his collar and wear it as a bib, a smart idea I presumed. His date then objected, to which he defended his stance. From that point on she refused to talk to, touch, or look at him, until he returned the napkin to his lap, somewhat exasperated (as a side note he ended up spilling on his tux, much to my delight). Kylie's night was ruined before I even got there, while I was on the toilet, for not being at pictures on time! Why put so much pressure on one night? If one thing goes wrong your whole night is ruined, if all goes perfectly, and you were the cinderella of the ball, then the night was adequate! It is beyond me what goes through females heads. Okay enough of my wisdom, back to the story. 

With anger in her voice, she attempts to calmly tell me she didn't get in any of the pictures, due to my absence, to which I yell, "Go cry yourself a friggin' river! Tell your boyfriend all about it!" Okay I didn't say that, even a little, but I thought it! I thought it good!

We then proceeded to drive to dinner, drag racing all the way, me at a mean 35mph. As we pull up to the restaurant, and start walking in with the group, surprise surprise! Guess who happens to be at the restaurant waiting to surprise Kylie? Her boyfriend walks over to her and gives her a big ol' hug, and they start talking, as I stand there, awkwardly looking on, not knowing if I should give them a moment or stand by my date. She told me to go inside and converse with the group (of whom I don't know a single soul) while she talks with him. I went and sat down, red faced as they asked where MY date had gone, and turns to a nice deep maroon as I weakly proclaim she's talking with her boyfriend. Kylie finally decided to stroll in about 15 minutes later, or at least that's what it seemed to me. For the remainder of the dinner she decided conversing with me wasn't worth it, and proceeded to type away on that cursed phone of hers (to whom I assume was her boyfriend), while I, with no phone to pretend to play on, stared awkwardly at my water. That's another thing, the cell phones have got to stop. I mean seriously, of the 20 people in that group, 7 or 8 were constantly on their phones and 19 of them (all but me) were on them on at least one occasion during the dinner. It's not only rude, but offending, telling one's present company their presence isn't enough, so oneself must converse with those not present. Okay enough with the dinner, I only need one word to describe that hour: awkward. 

Okay here's the moment we've all been waiting for, the best part of the night: the bathroom break. In the process of driving to the dance, I notice I need to use the restroom, and badly. After the not so short 20 minute drive to the dance, I mentioned this to my date, who merely waved it off, saying we had to wait for the group. The group finally came, so we walked up to the dance hall. As we were walking directly next to the bathrooms, I could and did touch the door, Kylie said we must first check in. By this time I had broken out into a sweat, stepping lightly so as to not put un needed pressure on my bladder. Still holding it together, I turned to Kylie and told her, if I did not get to the bathroom this instant I would literally pee my pants, as the pressure on my bladder had seemed to grow exponentially in the last few minutes. My years and years of sarcasm backfired right here, as she mistook my seriousness for a petty joke, and literally dragged me to get our picture taken. By this time the urination hallucinations were starting on, the pee sweats were already in full power, as I actually thought to myself, "What if I just pee in my pants a little? No one will know! It'll feel so good!" Have you ever had to pee so bad you prayed that you wouldn't pee your pants? Anyone? Anyone? I can now proudly say I've joined that elite group, as I called on the powers of heaven to hold my bladder together, and keep the pee in. After the stupid picture I stumbled to the bathroom, as by this time pee had clouded my vision. I pulled down my pants, and let out the loudest sigh of relief as the clearest, fastest stream of pee rocketed out of me, not stopping, and I am not exaggerating, for over one minute straight, at which time it finally started to putter out, and finally stopped at a minute and a half. I think I remember the stall urinal next to me changed customers 3 times during my urination. Tears of joy sprang from my face, a big smile broke out, I didn't care! I can honestly say I wanted to just stay in that stall and pee out the rest of the night. But, as all fantasies do, they end too soon, as did this one, the second I stepped out of that bathroom, now and forever a holy place in my book. 

For those of you who don't know me, I am not a big just go crazy have fun dancing kind of guy, I would rather do just about anything else. So dances don't appeal to me in the least. (Church dances are fine, just because there's certain moves for several songs, you tell me what to do and I'll do it, I don't make up moves) But 3 hour school dances......I would rather shove shard of glass in my eyes than go to another one of them. One reason was because I do not enjoy dancing, the other is because of the group I was stuck with. I know I am a funny guy, so when I say a joke I expect others to laugh, but on this night, when I said something I knew was funny, no one so much as courtesy chuckled! I know I'm funny! I say the joke you laugh, that's how it works! Anyways, so when you don't laugh at my joke, but you laugh at a girl in the group "jokingly" rubbing her derriere on some guy, there's a problem! That is not funny, it's not original, it's dirty and disrespectful. At about that point I felt it necessary to remove myself from the group. Luckily, one of my good friends from church spotted me and pulled me away, I don't know if everyone would've survived the night if he hadn't. I proceeded to hang out with him and another church friend the rest of the night. I danced with my date for about the last 10 seconds of one of the two slow songs, but that was it, and that was fine with me! 

Finally, the moment I'd been waiting for all night, I was literally counting down the minutes from the start, the dance was over. As our group was gathering to retreat back to Kylie's house for more joyous fun, we noticed one of the girls in our group absent. Upon further investigation, she was found in a bathroom stall crying, and no one knew why. The group proceeded to wait in the parking lot for 40 minutes while several girls consoled her, for whatever, probably minute, problem ruined her night (several weeks later I still don't know the problem, nor do I care). By this time my curfew was coming up and fast, darn it! I dropped Kylie off, lied out of my teeth saying I had a good time, and proceeded to drive home. It was then that I realized the gas gauge. The needle was below the bottom line, usually not the best sign on a 10 minute drive home at midnight. Although running out of gas would've wrapped up this sit com nicely, I made it to a gas station, and stuffed a good 2 bucks into the cashiers hand, giving me a solid half gallon. I made it home, ate, and went to bed. 

Doesn't Prom just sound dandy?

With love, 

Tucker Wallace