Promposals: The Forgotten Memory

This is what I wore to prom, not to the promposal itself.
This is what I wore to prom, not to the promposal itself.

I have an official retraction to make.

On Thursday, I wrote a blog entry about “promposals,” the elaborate ways people sometimes ask each other to prom. In reference to my junior prom, I wrote, “At the time, I was dating a girl named Kate, and while I’m sure I asked her to prom at some point, it wasn’t some big event.”

I’m here to say that I was wrong.

In a phone call with my mother this weekend, she reminded me of how I asked Kate to prom. She remembers it because I actually made a pretty big deal out of it. She remembers it, my dad remembers it, and even Kate’s mom remembers it. With my mom filling in the blanks, now I remember it too.

So here’s the real story:

Kate and I had been dating for about a month. I really liked her, and I was a bit of a helpless romantic, so I concocted a promposal plan.

After a series of discussions with my parents–who for some reason really did not like the idea–I convince them to let me do it. I borrowed my dad’s best suit (which was a little too big for me) and went out to buy some roses for Kate. I was driving my parent’s red 1992 Camry.

I showed up at Kate’s house completely unannounced. When she came to the door, I handed her the roses and asked her to go to prom with me. She said yes, so I thanked her, then turned around and left. Perhaps Kate’s mom took a photo of us? I really don’t know.

That’s my real promposal story. It wasn’t that elaborate, but it was much more than me casually mentioning the idea on the phone or something like that. I’m kind of impressed with my 17-year-old self for his romanticism.

I have no idea why I didn’t remember it, and even now the memory is quite hazy. It’s been over 17 years! Hopefully this doesn’t blemish my journalistic integrity too much.

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