Prom Date

I sat on the porch, scrolling through facebook, which was a bad idea by the way. How can you divert your mind from something which was meant to show up in your feed. The more I resisted it, the more I had to face it. My damn feed was filled with stupid Prom uproar.

“Jimmy” it was dad. Sigh. Now he will inquire about why didn’t I go to the prom. He came and sat beside me. “I thought you were going to the prom son”

“I am not going dad” I said.

“Why not?”

Well how do I tell you that your son is incapable of having a date?

“ummmm… just did not want to”

“did you ask someone out?”

What? I mean seriously? What? How in the world did you….??? Oh my god. He was looking into my eyes and that meant he needed a reply. A reply, not an excuse. And I could swear he would know if I lied.

“I did. i asked out three girls. They all refused. And I don’t think it would be a proud thing to go on a prom without a partner.” I turned to him. “Dad, I don’t fit anywhere. You know there is a category of certain kind of ugly people. And now I realise, I fall into it.”

Dad laughed. “You know, I used to think exactly like you back in my high school. I was a geek; I never knew a world beyond books, too afraid to ask out girls. Who would want to date a nerd? I believed you were supposed to have a personality to get a partner. You’ve got to be popular. So when it was time for prom, I knew I was not going to attend it anyway. My mom wanted me to be there, she bought a suit for me and I was not breaking her heart. I wore the suit, kissed her goodbye and drove away. Where? Don’t ask. I just turned the stereo and drove. After driving tirelessly and thinking how am I going to make my whole life as a single pathetic man, I decided to pause. I stopped by a peaceful lake. Dawn was breaking; I sat by the pond and cried. I too wanted to be loved. And the thought of never being able to be loved was consuming me. I cried for hours. Soon when I became a little relaxed, I decided to let it go. Somehow my brain successfully convinced me to stop that bullshit and grow up. i realised my foolishness. What was the use of all the drama? I could have better stayed at home and enjoyed some steak. I could have watched that 70s show on the tv. How did i become so emotional all because I didn’t have a date? Honestly. I was cursing myself. That turned out well actually, that very moment, I decided that I am going remain a geek in a world full of lovebirds and will embrace myself. And with that decision, I got up, brushed my pants and moved towards my car. Time to head home. That was long long time ago. I just carried on being myself, I was very proud of my identity. I let it go.” Dad paused, a very tender smile spread across his face.


“And now I wake up each day beside a beautiful woman, who loves me so dearly. I have four amazing and talented kids who have grown to be great human beings. The attic which was filled with science books and crazy experiments is now filled with toys. The walls are still flaunting your sketches. The truth is Jimmy, had I not loved myself, I am damn sure I would have cried for my bad luck forever. I would still be that single pathetic man who’d cry and whine every day.” He paused and wrapped his arms around my shoulder. “so, the key is, to love yourself, the key is to let it go. You don’t need to worry for your future, do not be disheartened if you don’t find someone at this point of time. May be you just haven’t given your life enough time to unfold itself for you. Wait for it to show you what has it got for you. and one day son, you will also have an attic full of toys, walls full of sketches and a beautiful person to wake you up each morning.”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s