Navigate / search

What? Friends Listen to Endless Love in the Dark…

The title of this post has nothing to do with the post itself, but I’m bad at titles so we’re just going to go with this.  Fifty points to the first person who names that movie.  (I’m not sure what the points are good for, but I’ll work that out eventually.  We’re all in this together.)

Today I’m going to tell you something, but first I want you to promise not to give me that look when I say it.

You know which look I’m talking about.  That look.  The look that effortlessly rolls from surprise to horror to pity in approximately .8 second.

I see that look every time I tell somebody this something.  And even though I can’t see you through the internet (wouldn’t that be creepy), I’m absolutely certain that I would be able to feel that look as all 9 of you read my words and simultaneously send it through your screens and across the wires and through my fingers and straight into my soul.

It’s that powerful.

And in return, I promise you that this something I’m going to share really doesn’t warrant the look.  It doesn’t.  It’s not that bad, and it certainly doesn’t deserve your pity, for crying out loud.

So here it is.








There.  I said it.

Did that make you feel icky?

It seems to make people feel icky.  Like they don’t know how to react.  Like I just told them I have 3 nipples.  Which I DON’T.

(But if I did, maybe I would’ve had a better shot at going to prom, eh?)

Okay, maybe not.

Now don’t get me wrong – I don’t go around just spouting out this tasty tidbit to anyone willing to listen.  I’m only telling you now because I want you to know me, and in order for that to happen, we need to just put everything out on the table.

My divulgence of this information usually follows one of those let’s-reminisce-about-high-school conversations, which inevitably leads to talk of school dances and eventually the ultimate school dance experience, which just so happens to be p-r-o-m.  And the person with whom I’m having the high school reminiscing conversation will tell me about how he rented an orange tux with tails and a top hat ala Dumb and Dumber or how she almost lost her virginity in the limo on the way to the post prom party and oh-boy-I-will-never-drink-Jäger-again-because-you-wouldn’t-believe-the-things-it-made-me-do and all of this sucks because just when the stories are getting good, they look at me all expectantly because they know that I, of all people, must have some crazy story to tell and of course I have to ruin it all by saying, “I never went to prom.”

And then I get the look.

And of course, the look is quickly followed by an exasperated, “Why?!”

Well, because I wasn’t asked.  And I didn’t really see the need to go out and buy a gown and have my hair done just so my mom could take pictures of me with some friends in front of the fireplace and then drive the Bonneville to a dance where I’d sip peppermint schnapps from a flask and watch people grope each other under the seductive vocal influence of K-Ci & JoJo.

It just wasn’t in the cards.

If it makes you feel any better, I did go to homecoming all 4 years (twice with a date and twice without), and I managed to have a decent time – even senior year when my date (who didn’t even go to my school) had to have his jaw wired shut the day before due to a flag football playing injury.  Flag football.  So we had to write notes back and forth on a cocktail napkin all night and I was the girl with the hot-but-oddly-quiet date who really didn’t have much to say, but by God was he nice to look at.

And I will say this, even though it might make some of you uncomfortable:  I don’t regret not going.  I don’t!  I’m hoping this life will bring me plenty of other amazing experiences (and it has so far), so I don’t need to dwell on the fact that I didn’t complete an apparent high school rite of passage.

I still got the diploma, didn’t I?

And I honestly don’t think it’s affected my overall success as an adult.

That said, I’ve decided I need to find a part-time job this coming week because I’m getting a little stir-crazy and I’m tired of not making any money and Libras are social creatures, but I’m having a hard time deciding:

Should try to find something in retail, or should just suck it up and go back to waiting tables?


Thank you for reading Domestiphobia! This post might contain affiliate links. Knowing you stopped by totally validates the time I spend here, so leave a comment. Preferably a nice one. I'm also on Facebook, Twitter, and sometimes Instagram if you want to connect.


Veronica Blevins

Our senior prom was lame anyway, so you didn’t miss anything.

The title’s easy. Happy Gilmore.

Good luck with the job hunting!


Yeah, I figured I wouldn’t make the movie quote too difficult on a Friday… :) Nice job! And thanks for not making me feel like I missed out. ;)

(Oh, and that end part was supposed to be a little ironic… Like, hey… I might have to go back to waiting tables, but that doesn’t mean I’m not successful, right? Right??) But thanks for the luck! Maybe I’ll wait on Bill Gates at the BBQ hut in Fayetteville and he’ll immediately hire me as an assistant.

One can dream, right?


My husband never went to prom either. And he is a freakin’ awesome dancer. He also rapped at our wedding. So I don’t know how he didn’t go – it does not compute. I, on the other hand, am not much of a dancer. And I went to 5 proms. Go figure.


Ha, I guess that just goes to show that you can be an outgoing person and still not go to prom! (Though I’m terrible at dancing, too.)

By the way, I read that your husband is going to Afghanistan as a civilian – I’m sure it won’t be easy, but hang in there! Luckily we live in the wonderful days of Skype, so hopefully you two will be able to talk frequently. And in the meantime, enjoy the tax-free salary!


Hey, I never went to prom either. Although I did, for some odd reason, go to Millard West’s after prom party. I didn’t even go to school there. But yeah, no prom. Wasn’t so good with the ladies and yet,somehow,I’m married.

Hooray for college.


Are you kidding me?? You were one of the most adorable guys at Best Buy (which, believe it or not, is not like being the smartest kid with Down Syndrome (and that is not my insensitivity speaking – it’s from a movie)) – that place was teeming with cuties. It’s no wonder I didn’t have any interest in the guys at my school.

Your wife is one lucky lady, and I’m sure she knows it. ;)

(And yes, college rocked.)


As others have noted, PROM SUCKED! People who, years later, still think prom was awesome probably haven’t had much of a life since then…

My junior year I went with this senior I barely knew – he asked me way before anyone else, and I sort of felt sorry for him, so I said yes…At prom this girl who liked him (and might have been his gf?) started crying and freaking out when I danced with him, and I ended up unwittingly getting stuck in the middle of a love triangle I didn’t care about. I think he went home with her that night & knocked her up or something. Apparently he was a bit of a player.

Senior year was with a boy I was dating & wanted to break up with but couldn’t break up with until after prom, because we’d already made all of the arrangements. It was awkward. I hated it. We weren’t even drinking or banging or anything, so there was nothing to offset the actual crappiness of prom, and unfortunately that means I remembered everything ;-)

I’d always end up dancing with my female friends because boys didn’t dance unless they were “grinding” all nasty, and I wanted no part of that.

Anywho. I’m proud of you for not going. It’s a sham, a horrible, terrible, awful, overpriced sham.


Haha, I love that you’re justifying why you DID go to prom. ;)

I seriously don’t have anything against it! I can see how, under the right circumstances, it could be a blast. But yeah… I’m not gonna cry over not going.

So the guy you went to prom with went home with another girl?? That’s messed up! Even if you didn’t care, that’s screwy. And going with a guy you wanted to break up with? You are just a glutton for punishment. :) And what?? You didn’t grind with your female friends? You completely missed out on a totally different rite of passage… ;)


If I would have shot a ‘look’ at you anywhere it would have probably been at the “I wasn’t asked.” But the pretty ones usually run into that problem because all of the boys assume she’s already been asked and is going with someone. So I’d say blame it on the stupid boys (I was one of them). ;)

And this doesn’t seem like you have that bad of writers block. I think I confused some co-workers by randomly laughing out loud while reading.


Awwwwww! That’s so nice. But trust me – I was pretty much a geek. (Still am.)

And it’s been 3 days since I’ve been able to write anything. I finally spit this out this morning after staring at the screen for a half hour. Apparently I can write OK when it doesn’t actually have to have a point. ;)

Dennis Hong

If you get the “look” from me, it’s only because I can’t help staring at that third nipple of yours.


Bwahahaha! Me neither. Sometimes I just stare at it in the mirror for hours because it’s just. that. cool. It happens all the time just walking down the street, too – and I’m like, “Yo, stop staring at my third nipple. My face is up HERE.” But I know I can’t really blame them.

Don't be shy... tell me what you think!