Surely I couldn't have made it out of high school without a few more misguided interactions with girls. The first one actually wasn't necessarily bad. By the time Winter Homecoming Dance came around again, I had attended (or "observed" to be more accurate) at least four of these events without asking anyone else to go with me, or asking any of the other girls there to dance with me. I usually have a singular focus in that regard, and while at an intellectual level I was well aware that W was not necessarily better than any of the other options, the obstacle presented by the fear of rejection could only be overcome by the motivation that emotional desire brings. Know that it would basically be the same isn't enough to get the job done.
At that dance, I somehow summoned up the courage and initiative to ask W to dance with me, and against all odds and expectations, she accepted. So we danced for a song, a slow quiet one, so we actually talked to each other the whole time. It was a fairly shallow conversation, mostly about the event itself, since she had organized it, but it was the most communication we had had since the day I asked her to the same dance the year before. And then it was over, we parted ways, and life returned to normal. Unfortunately that did not magically ease the tension I felt in regards to interacting with her on a daily basis.
As with the previous year, the next dance was the Sadie Hawkins. I don't recall much of interest happening leading up to it until I was in the lab after school a couple days before the event. W's car was parked right outside the window, which was unusual. It was sitting there for over an hour, staring at me while I tried to work. There was probably an opportunity here, I just wasn't sure how to take advantage of it. Her sunroof was cracked open, so I got the brilliant idea to write her a note and slip it inside. I composed something eloquent and passionately romantic, like: "W, Will you go to the dance with me? Mike" and headed outside. I looked around but no one was in sight, so I casually walked up to the car and slipped it inside. The paper had a slight curl to it, so it fluttered back and forth as it fell, over the wheel, over the seat, under the wheel... and under the seat. It pretty much disappeared from view, completely under the front seat. I was tempted for a moment to open the door and put it in a more visible spot, but even if it was unlocked, I was worried it would set off an alarm or something. So I just walked away, laughing out loud at how screwed I was. Maybe if I was lucky, she would find it just in time for the next dance. Regardless, I just took it as God's intervention into the situation, since I doubt I could do that again if I tried a hundred times. I never did find out what happened to that note, or when she found it, but it seemed unlikely to happen in the next 48 hours.
The last dance of the school year is of course prom. I had never been, and it was supposed to be on a whole different level. Part of me would have liked to go with W, while another part of me wanted nothing to do with the uniquely stressful parts of prom. But something unexpected happened a week before the event. Before our early morning leadership class, and therefore right in front of W, Amanda shouted across the room, asking if I would go to prom with her friend Katie, who was also standing right there. I knew both of the girls, who were juniors. Ironically Katy had a lot in common with W, at least on paper. Same council office she had held the previous year, similar looking car, and actually parked in the same spot W usually had the year before, but she was definitely not W. It would not have been unlike me, to pray to God the year before, asking to go to prom with someone special, without identifying her by name, only by description. God has a good memory, and quite the sense of humor.
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