Nightmare Dates: Prom

Urban Dictionary’s definition of prom is: an excuse for horny, young teenagers to get together for a night of drinking, fornication and promiscuity.  
 
This was my prom. In Iqaluit, Nunavut, prom is the ultimate excuse to get down and dirty with alcohol, the opposite sex, and a lot of mosquitoes.  
 
I had always pictured my prom the “Hollywood” way: the jaw-dropping dress, the volumized hair and the perfect date. Up until a few days before my prom, this was my scene.  

I had the perfect dress; white, long and sparkling. I picked it out with my date in mind. He was extremely fond of classy dresses that still portrayed the “sexy” image. I chose my hair do from Cosmo Girl’s Prom edition, and I already had my makeup accessible on the bathroom counter.  
 
My date was perfect. He was my long-time, amazing boyfriend. When we started dating, we knew prom would be a great time. It wasn’t his looks, or sex appeal that drove me insane, it was the fact that I loved him. I always pictured myself with a prom date that I loved.  
 
Unfortunately, things do not always go as planned, especially in relationships. Sturdy roads turn to bumpy ones, and people are often left on their ass. By the end of my prom night, I was left on my ass.  
 
Up until a week before prom everything was well-organized. Things between my boyfriend and I were a little rocky due to a recent trip to Europe. After fighting over his attendance at a European strip club, he felt that he was too restrained by my “wishes”. Little did I know, this entire conflict would ruin my prom. 
 
My boyfriend had been ignoring me for a few days, and I knew this was never a good sign. I decided to call him and ask to meet up after school. When I got to his place, I could already sense the dumpage coming. 
 
“What’s going on?” I asked nervously.  
 
Screw prom. The last thing I wanted was my lover to dump me.  
 
“Look, I don’t think we’re right for each other,” he said.  
 
“Is that even a legitimate breakup line? If we weren’t right for each other, how did we toughen out three years?” I thought. I wish I said it out loud, but I was the lowest, most cowardly breed of “chicken” on this planet. 
 
After giving me more lame excuses, he proceeded to put on Jay-Z’s song “99 Problems, but a Bitch Ain’t one.” This was my cue to exit his apartment, which I did in tears. I ran home, knowing that my prom would be in my black book forever. 
 
I attempted to call him later that night to reconcile, but had no luck. Being the Facebook stalker that I am, I quickly learned he was taking his best friend’s little sister to prom. What a kick in my non-existing balls. Luckily, I found a substitute prom date, who happened to be extremely handsome and genuinely kind. My mother kept insisting on calling Leonardo DiCaprio to escort me, but unfortunately, those plans never followed through.  
 
The night of my prom couldn’t have started off better. I actually thought everything was going to be alright. I was dancing the night away, enjoying time with friends and people who didn’t consider me a “problematic bitch”. 
 
The first slow dance of the evening came on, and my guts told me it would be trouble. I started to dance with my prom date (who I was then very attracted to.) Suddenly, I saw my ex-boyfriend creep up beside me with his date. Not only did he fondle her in front of me, but he proceeded to start a full-out tongue war with her on the dance floor.  
 
That was it. I ran out of the room towards the bathroom and stayed there for the next hour. My white dress was now off-white from the time I spent crying on bathroom floor. My mascara was all over my face (waterproof, schmwarterproof), and the one night I was supposed to remember for the rest of my life was completely shattered. That night, I didn’t enjoy anything. Prom was ruined, grad party was ruined and my heart was ruined.  
 
A few days later, my ex-boyfriend contacted me and said he was sorry and wanted to “start things up again.” Being the attached woman that I am, I jumped right back to him. This wasn’t the first time he’d dump me, and it wouldn’t be the last.