Last Thursday, I went to my friend, Kyle’s, high school prom. Daw. *cute little blinks* I was young again!

Last year was my senior prom, though it seems ages ago, and Kyle was my date. So it seemed only fitting that I return the favor, even though this time, instead of it being an inside joke between us, it was really quite obvious I was robbing the cradle.

Last year, we had months to prepare for it. I painted my nails for probably the second time in my life. And was so proud.

For my birthday, he bought me my prom dress (still one of my favorites). And we got each other a corsage and boutonnière. He and his family also saw me in makeup for the first time.

This year… wasn’t exactly the same.

He asked me Tuesday. The prom was Thursday (homeschoolers, we have to do everything different). He’s seen my black dress and said why don’t I wear that.

We thrift shopped all day. I showed him around my home town. The coffee shop. My church. He even helped me find a dress that was perfect for prom (99 cents! Oh yeah. I’ll post on my fashion blog about it soon. Been kind of neglecting that one). I almost wore it, except he wanted to go for the classic tuxedo and little black dress combo.

This is a really awkward looking picture. But when it comes to the middle of the night, you thank your photographer for their patience and move on with good terms. Then you come to your senses and realize how strange you’re standing. And in my case, how I’m being swallowed by hair. . You can’t win ’em all.

It was surreal going to prom, in the same country club, with the same person, and the same food being served. The only difference was the location of the dance floor, a candy bar (I unashamedly had seconds), and a photo booth with props.

Also, I actually felt old. Or “more mature.” I was talking to a girl I graduated with who had come with her little brother and looked as tired as I was feeling. And we both agreed that the magic of the night seemed to leave with high school. I felt like I had my time to shine, but now it was Kyle’s time.

On the way down the hill to his house and the town where the prom was being held, I did my makeup in the car and we finished getting ready at his house where, in my defense, at six thirty I asked, “what time are we supposed to be there?”

He said, “six thirty, but we can be fashionably late.” I assumed he knew what time it was already. But he told me to take my time (guys, you should probably never tell a girl to take her time). When he eventually did notice the time, he started asking me if I was ready. And was I ready now? Etc, etc.

We got there late. But not too late for dinner (Kyle’s biggest concern), so it was fine.

It brings a whole different perspective when you go to one of these things with someone else in mind. Not that I was totally selfish last year, at least I hope I wasn’t. But I was content sitting around talking, joking around, dancing or singing along. I like to think I was the most perfect and agreeable date.

I even got to spend time with my long-long time friend, Heather. We joke that we’ve known each other for as long as she’s been born. And we bonded one year at the homeschool end-of-year picnic when we were both scrambling around in the dirt and leaves, catching lizards.

Been friends ever since.

She’s always been a tom-boy, til very recent. So I was so surprised to see she had grown her hair out, curled it, and was wearing a very pretty floor length gown.

 

When the song from Frozen came on, we were all over that. And had to dance to “We’re never getting back together,” because it’s the girl thing to do. It was our first dance together, so pretty memorable.

The night was fun. Kyle had a good time too. Which made me feel like “mission accomplished.”

I got in the car to go home and I felt really old because I was beat. I went to bed, then had to wake up early for a dentist appointment and work right after.

Seriously, blink your eyes and you’re suddenly an adult again.