The ultimate horror: “I’m sorry, but I can’t go to your prom.”
If you grew up studying in an exclusive Catholic school, you are surely familiar with the concept (and the torture) of a “promposal.” For the benefit of those who have not heard of it, a promposal is made when a person—whether a guy or a girl, it does not matter—asks someone to be his or her date to the annual junior promenade.
Politically and sociologically speaking, this concept actually breaks the gender stereotyping in our society. But I will not be talking about gender roles, and neither will this piece be the usual story of how a boy and a girl eventually fall in love and live happily ever after. Rather, this is how I was dumped (for lack of a better term) by Paul, my supposed prom date.
Who is Paul?
Paul was also studying at an exclusive school. He is what you would call the typical boy next door: smart, nice, tall, and thoughtful. We met at a soirée when we were in our second year in high school. Honestly, he did not really stick in my mind after our first meeting. I could not even remember talking to him during the speed date of the soirée, so any possibility of him being a “promspect” (prom + suspect: ideal date for prom) was out of the question.
It was only during our second meeting—at an event in my school—that we were really able to talk. Since then, we had been constantly texting each other and going to each other’s school events. We became really close, so close that our friends began to tease us. But we told them it was just a platonic friendship.
Fast-forward to our junior year—the hardest year in high school for both academic and prom reasons. Paul and I were still the best of friends. We became closer than ever (or so I thought). Not a day went by that we did not update each other on what was happening. We would talk about absolutely anything and everything. At this rate, I was already half-considering asking him to be my date at the prom.
Finally, I came to terms with the idea of inviting Paul to be my date. It was also at this point that I concluded to myself that I might have this teeny-tiny bit of feeling for him.
And the day of the promposal came. It was the day after I arrived from abroad, where I celebrated Christmas. I was full of emotions and excitement. I had planned this for weeks, and I even went to the extent of asking one of his best guy friends, together with my best girl friends, to help me. So the moment came.
With trembling knees and a shaky voice, I told him: “Will you go to the prom with me?”
A second passed (which felt like an hour), and he answered: “Yes, of course!”
A big sigh of relief escaped my lips. I finally have a prom date!
Monday morning came and I was excited to go to school to tell my friends about my successful promposal. The moment I entered my classroom, two of my best friends pulled me aside.
“Do you have a back-up prom date?” they said.
I was completely confused, and could not understand what they were saying. I told them: “Paul is my prom date. What are you both talking about?”
“Well, we don’t think he’ll be able to make it on prom night,” they said.
What could have been a wonderful Monday morning was instantly ruined. What I thought was a successful promposal turned out to be a dud. What could have been a prom night with my best friend was now impossible.
That night I confronted Paul through a phone call. I asked him if what my friends were saying was true. He confirmed it that, yes, it was indeed true—which really broke my heart because it felt as if all my efforts had gone down the drain.
It turned out that he could not make it to the prom because his retreat was scheduled on the same day as my prom night. He explained that it was too late for him to submit a letter requesting that he be allowed to join another class’ retreat because I had promposed too late (our prom was scheduled on the third week of February).
A lot of “I’m sorry’s” and “It’s okay’s” were exchanged during that 40-minute phone call.
Before we said goodbye, Paul promised to make it up to me after my prom. I assumed that he would ask me to HIS prom. But he never did. Everything turned upside down for both of us.
After that episode, our relationship just went downhill. Everything just became awkward. It was clear that we had a lot of issues, of things unsaid to each other. We started replying late to, and even ignoring, each other’s text messages. Neither of us knew why.
Our friendship was slowly drifting away. Until one day, one of us just stopped replying to the other at all; it was obvious that we had grown out of each other’s company.
What happened between Paul and me truly saddened me. I am sure anyone will agree that losing a best friend is one of the worse things that can happen to a person. Before the end, what used to be fun-filled conversations were replaced with one-liner replies. What used to be a comfortable relationship became complete awkwardness.
Surprisingly, even if I had lost one friend, I was able to gain a few new friends (with whom I am still in contact). I became more focused on my academics and was able to set my priorities straight (probably because I did not have a distraction anymore; sorry, Paul!).
After all, John Steinbeck once said to his son, “Nothing good gets away.” Or what my dad usually translates to a warning about the peril of making assumptions: “Teh, wag kang assuming!”
Eryl Amrhein N. Agustin, 17, is a political science freshman at the University of the Philippines. She is an alumna of Poveda and St. Scholastica’s College.