I don’t what the girls wore to the big dances at your college or even if you went to college, but at our university they wore these very long tight gowns that resembled nothing less than a cross between a cotillion gown and a lounge singer’s outfit.
Mwahaha! And besides appearing tacky as all get out, they were no good to dance in, not even a slow dance, because of the aforementioned tightness or they were too big around. Remember that black dress I wore way back at my birthday party? Well, that’s what I wore. Of course, since I had grown a little taller since my birthday and weighed more (in proportion to my height), the dress was shorter and tighter and, of course, it goes without saying that I looked very hot in it.
I actually shouldn’t have been allowed to attend, since it was an unwritten rule at our university that freshmen didn’t appear at any of the formal dances. By the way, when I successfully ran for the office of senior class president, somebody wanted me to write down all the unwritten rules for him. I told him if I did that, then they wouldn’t be unwritten. He didn’t get it. Mwahaha! What a dummy. Anyway that’s a story for another time. As I was saying, I shouldn’t have been allowed to attend the dance although, with the power that Eric had, he was able to swing it quite easily.
I think the homecoming dance began at eight o’clock and we arrived a little before nine. You know us, fashionably late – haha! Actually I had a difficult time getting ready, due to our activities of the afternoon. Eric’s such a sweetheart, he just waited patiently downstairs letting my father bore him to death. Of course, look at his payoff – me!
We finally get there and get inside the gym. Romantic, ain’t it? Big dance in the gym, where you still smell the left over body odors from years past. It was of course supposed to be held in a different hall built for dances, but it was under some sort of construction. By the way, for all you people who don’t understand what a homecoming dance is – tough shit!
Of course, as soon as Eric walks in, the whole place stops drop dead still and then explodes in a cacophony of applause, screaming, and shouting for the win over our bitterest rivals. I’ll tell ya this too, Eric was ‘so’ cool. He just played it off, as if it were all a minor annoyance. Although I realized that inside he was digging the shit out of it.
In the midst of it, he leaned over to me so I could hear him, because it had remained very noisy and declared in his most sincere voice, “They’re wrong, you know. You’re the real hero of the game, we wouldn’t have won it without you.”
I know, I know, I’m an idiot, but it made me tingle all the way down to the soles of my feet when he said that.
When things began to return to normal, I realized they once again had hired a lame-o band for the dance. I don’t what kind of bands your college hired for dances, but ours always hired some group of old guys from someplace like the Elks, or tigers or some animal. And they always had some guy that played the accordion. Can you believe it? The accordion! And they always thought they were ‘so’ hip, if they played something like ‘Raindrops keep falling on my head.’ Mwahaha! Lame, I’m telling ya.
Eric, of course, had to make his little rounds of saying hello to certain people, starting with the coaches and their wives, some of the alumni, and such and therefore had to leave me on my own for a little while. Normally that would be fine, because a lot of guys would use the opportunity to hit on me or I would spend the time talking with my friends, but this dance was different. All the guys had dates and they dare not leave their side to go rap with me and I didn’t know most of the girls there, because they were all upperclassmen.
I was just standing there by the sidelines, minding my own business, and waiting for Eric, when I suddenly hear spoken in a very snotty tone, “Well, if it isn’t ‘little’ Sara. What are ‘you’ doing here, Sara?”
I turned in the semi-darkness and glimpsed my accuser. It was Muffy Hamilton, or Misty, or Missy; you know one of the M names, whose fathers’ are always attorneys, or doctors, or CPA’s, or CEO’s.
I answered, “I’m attending the dance, M----, the same as you.” I always slurred her name, so as to not be caught out that I didn’t remember it. She became very snotty, if she discovered you didn’t remember her name, and personally I wasn’t looking for any trouble – not on tonight of all nights.
She then answered me, “You may be here at the dance, but you’re certainly ‘not’ the same as I.”
‘Thank God for small favors,’ I thought to myself. She then turned to her little entourage of sycophants that followed her everywhere the way feeder fish follow sharks and they appropriately tittered at her latest lame attempt at a witticism.
Muffy, Misty, or Missy returned her attention to me and, as she looked my outfit up and down, I thought, ‘Oh Christ, here it comes!’
Now you have to understand right off, her gown was one of most horrific formal gowns I had even seen. It was some kind of horrid shade of pink, that combined with her long red hair, was completely wrong for her. That pink bounced off her skin tones making it look, as if she were going to stroke out at any second, although maybe she was going to, I don’t know. The top of the gown looked like the top of a ballet outfit and had sparkles on it. Haha! Honest to God, it had sparkles all over it, and the bottom of the gown flared way out, as though it had a bustle beneath it. It didn’t as it turned out, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Muffy, Misty, or Missy announces for all in the vicinity to hear, “It’s ‘too’ bad Sara, that you couldn’t afford anything to wear to the dance.”
Ok, that did it, as far as I was concerned! It was ok to dis my dress, but not to indicate that I was some kind of poor urchin child for all to hear. Consequently I responded, “Oh M---, how lucky you are. Did they have a sale of some of the outfits used in ‘Gone with the Wind?’ Mwahaha!”
‘That ought to fix her,’ I thought.
She turned bright red from anger and glared at her companions, when the empty headed twits got confused and tittered at the wrong time. Losing her thin veneer of civilized behavior altogether, she snapped at me, “Listen here you little cunt. I’ll wipe the floor with that rag you’re wearing.”
Luckily before I could respond, Eric magically appeared at my elbow; apparently drawn by the negative vibrations that were being emanated. “Good evening, Ms. Hamilton,” Eric suavely intoned, while slightly bowing. Goddamn it! He didn’t use her first name. I still didn’t know what it was. The bitch actually blushed at my lover’s attention to her. ‘Aha!’ I thought. ‘Hands off, bitch!’
“We’ll just be going,” Eric explained, as he took me by the elbow and steered me away from the dangerous reef I had almost rammed myself on. “Sara, what the heck are you doing?” he whispered to me, as we moved out on to the dance floor.
That was Eric’s version of confronting me. He was ‘so’ sweet. I said in a totally innocent voice, “What do you mean, lover?”
He wasn’t falling for that, but he knew better than to argue with me. I’m like a dog with a bone in an argument. I just won’t let go, haha. Eric led me out on to the dance floor and we began slow dancing to the band’s version of – get this – ‘Roll Me Over in the Clover.” Pathetic, but I could have used a roll from my lover just about then, let me tell you. The next thing I know somebody had asked Muffy, Misty, and Missy to dance and they’re out there too.
The next thing I know that bitch is giving me the hip, as they swirled by us. She knocked me into Eric, who recognizing what happened, suggested, “Just let it go, Sara. We don’t need any trouble.”
