If social media were around in 1980, my prom experience would have gone viral.
As it went, I didn't know my date very well. She was in my photography class, very pretty and, more importantly, available.
When she agreed to go with me, a great disruption occurred in the Bethel Park High prom-date pecking order. Whereas my date greatly improved my public stature — even my friends and family were surprised she agreed to go with me — I significantly lowered hers.
She was awfully sore about it.
“I heard about you,” she told me at our pre-prom date. “A regular class clown! You better not show up in a limo, wear a top hat or cane or do anything else to embarrass me!”
The authenticity of such a painful video clip surely would have racked up a few million TikTok views.
Still, I wanted to impress her. I bought her the finest corsage at our high school (it cost $45, which would be about $170 now). I bought a box of frozen steaks, snacks and other refreshments for the after-prom party.
On the afternoon of the prom, my friend Gigs and I — we double-dated — took a drive to the prom ballroom downtown to make sure we wouldn’t get lost later.
Later that evening, we picked up our girls for photos and false enthusiasm, but we were late for dinner (we got lost).
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I’m certain my date didn’t spend a few thousand dollars on her dress as girls do now, though I remember she looked great.
The truth is, I can’t remember what she was wearing because I hardly saw her all night long. She and Gigs’ date spent most of the night in the ladies’ room, while Gigs and I counted how many times the hard-rock band played “Cocaine” (nine).
Finally, around 11:30 p.m., the dance was over. We took the girls home.
But our suffering was just beginning.
We picked our dates up early the next morning and drove to a lake cabin where my friend Cook was having an after-prom party. The cabin was a two-hour drive, but it took us five (we got lost).
My date didn’t utter a word until 2 p.m., when she challenged Gigs and me to a tennis match. Gigs is an outstanding athlete, and I’m no slouch, either. We crushed the girls, and after the match they refused to talk to us.
Gigs and I spent the rest of the day tossing a football and eating steak. Around dusk, the girls told us it was time to leave.
Five hours later we arrived home (we got lost), and the torturous affair was finally over.
For the past 18 years, kids have grown up with smartphones and social media, where the real event hasn’t been the prom itself — it’s been the curated content they post afterward.
However, I read that Generation Z prefers to post authentic content over the fake “look how perfect my life is” content that Millennials and Gen Xers prefer.
Looking back, I can see that my prom had all the raw, awkward authenticity Gen Z loves — it likely would have gone viral today.
In any event, Gen Z promgoers, I offer you some advice: Be kind to your date or your unpleasant actions might be repaid with thousands of nasty comments on TikTok and Instagram.
Find Tom Purcell’s syndicated column, humor books and funny videos of his dog, Thurber, at TomPurcell.com. Email him at Tom@TomPurcell.com.
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