p-r-o-m

Prom is seemingly a culmination of high school social life, where social aptitudes are put through the tests of fire and water in one night. Senior students face it with a mix of excitement and fear, as if it would be the time of their lives.

In many cases, prom is really a silent competition.
It is a time to flaunt the most stylish and expensive suits and dresses, the best and most dazzling looks, and the hottest dates. The popular exercise their freedom to appoint the perfect dates while the rest – the majority ‘losers’ – have their (secret) romantic wishes dashed and hearts broken.

I remember my prom – I remember very well the pain I felt.

I remember anxiously searching – in an ordinary department store – for an affordable something that would not make me look too bad. I was flabby and unattractive; and being a scholarship student, I could not afford a designer label or a tailored dress, or a fancy hair-do. Then the boy I secretly pined for, chose one of the most popular girls as his date instead of me (doh, obviously). It was expected to go with a partner of opposite sex, so I resolved to ask a boy whom nobody wanted as well.

Looking back now I feel rather sorry for him, having used him as a prop. Not that I am ungrateful. He could not and would not dance, but he wore an outfit that would suit what he thought I would wear. When the social pressure inside the ballroom became too much to bear, he faithfully walked with me around the lobby, along the hallways, up and down the hotel stairs – without voicing a word of complaint. (Dear Friend, if you are reading this, many, many thanks.)

Later that night, having paid much money for the ballroom, the students were given a fifty percent discount to rent a suite. Those who opted to stay, among others, were me, my crush, and his date. Ouch. My date chose to go home.

It became a night of stabbing pain and fake smiles.

However, something much worse was the fact that I was foolish enough to overlook what I should have cherished.


Had I understood better, I would have focused on those who offered me the warmth and happiness of friendship. I should have better appreciated the gift a close friend gave later that night. I could have focused on the joy of sharing a blanket with good friends while watching The Truman Show in the hotel suite. I could have cherished the last few moments our little circle of friends had, before each of us went our separate ways. That circle of friends was one of nerds, geeks and dorks, but we love(d) each other.

Had I known better, I would not have worried so much about my looks. I would not have felt that heart-broken about my crush (whom I thought I loved very much – I was dead wrong) and that jealous of his date, who had all the looks and wore an exquisite princess dress specially tailored for the occasion. I should not have used my date as a prop and gone with a good friend instead – someone whose company I could genuinely enjoy and vice versa.


It is foolish to stack adolescent romantic dreams on a prom night. After all, it is only a prom. Most couples who exchanged romantic promises that night did break up a while later. I remember what some people wore and how stunning some people looked then. I remember who the prom king and queen were. Yet those things no longer matter now.

Prom should be a celebration of friendship and young adulthood; with good food, good company, and a good amount of sensibility. Apart from this, prom is not that important – really.