This title is a misnomer, because it kind of implies that the scramble has not already begun. I promise you, it has. And if it hasn't, well...welcome to the first day.
Prom. Is. Coming.
That's right, the social event of the year is upon us; brace yourself for weeks upon weeks of such classic lines as "damn it, I need a date," and, "crap, still no date," and my personal favorite, "WHY WON'T ANYBODY DATE ME...*sob*". I feel justified in using these phrasings in a slightly condescending way due to the fact that I will be one of the people you all hate, complaining the entire time while utterly refusing to actually (GASP) ask someone.
Prom is the kind of thing that pushes you to do stupid things out of desperation. For instance, when the guy asks the girl, it must be doing something interesting. This can range anywhere from jumping onto a table and asking her in front of the entire school to somehow managing to write her name up into the stars (any guy who pulls that one off, keeper). It does not seem to matter that the guy has been humiliated (don't get me started one why, stupid societal pressures) due to the fact that he got the girl. Well, congrats dude. You just outdid all of the other guys who couldn't manage to organize the stars just write.
That's kind of a lie, too. My own personal shyness shall not be the reason why I am unhappy this prom season (well, kind of, but not really). I'm not afraid to ask anyone. It's more of a...well...do I really have to?
I get the whole "memories of your life" thing, the "look-back-on-your-pitiful-existence-and-smile" extravaganza that I need to be able to be a part of when I'm seventy, but in all honesty, the prom crowd might not be the best fit for me. The whole thing doesn't really seem like my style. If I went with a big group of friends, I could--
But do you see what I just did there? I made myself an excuse to not ask anyone to prom, sparing myself any possible embarrassment at my own hands. Through circular logic, I just made it so that my actions don't matter, and I can morally drag my friends down with me into the dateless hole of datelessness. It's a perfect plan. But can I really have fun without a date--
Gah! See? There's no escape! I'm just going to cycle through this indecision until my brain rots and/or the dance actually gets here. And then I'll have no date and I'm going to die alone (the conclusion was supported in my mind, of course).
Therefore, prom is a spiraling vortex of horrifying doom from which there is no escape. (Except, well, when prom is over.)
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