First Date

Many moons ago, when I first started this blog and I was telling Piano Stories, I threatened to tell about my first date with Bruce. So, here's the story:

It actually starts in January or February of 1985. Bruce and I were really good friends, and we spent a lot of time chatting with each other. I kind of thought I'd like to go on a real date with him, but I was too shy to ask a guy—even a good friend—on a date. Anyway, on that day in January or February we were talking about the upcoming Senior Ball. I asked Bruce if he had a date yet (a good, broad hint is as close as I ever came to asking someone out. I only learned much later that guys just don't really pick up on good, broad hints.) He said he hadn't decided who to ask to the dance. "Who were you thinking about asking?" And he said he'd made a list of girls. He even told me some of the names on the list. This was my big chance to say, "How about me?" But I didn't. He ended up taking someone who was not me. :-(

Fast-forward to April of 1985.

Now the Junior Prom was coming up. Again, I hoped for an invitation from Bruce—but, no. Time passed, and nothing. We were just high-school friends, and I would graduate and never go on a date with him at all. Pretty soon it was Prom night. Oh well. [photo left: Kearns High School]

My parents were going to a wedding reception the night of the Prom (April 26) and I had resigned myself to a night of watching TV with my little sister, Denise. But then, one hour before the dance, I got a call—from Bruce! And he asked if I'd like to go to the dance with him! Would I! I told him I'd have to ask my mom first; she said yes, as I was sure she would, and then I gave him a definite "yes." Could I be ready in about an hour? Yep! "Where's your house?" I gave him the address, instructions to get there from the high-school, and told him, "it's the house with the really bright porch light." (I found out later that he thought the porch-light instruction was kind of weird, bordering on stupid; but he saw what I meant when he got there.)

Mom's front porch has a really bright light.

After we hung up I raced to the grocery store for some really important thing—probably either panty-hose or mascara—and I raced back home to shower and get dressed up. Fortunately I had a few nice, formal dresses—one from my sister Melanie's wedding reception, one from Jr. High commencement a few years earlier, and one from the church's Sesquecentennial Ball a few years before that. They all fit well; I chose the commencement dress, which was my favorite. And I was ready when he came to pick me up an hour later.

Wow! We look like babies in this picture! And kind of geeky too.
Aren't I brave to post this pic?

Here is the story behind his asking me out one hour before the dance:

Bruce had thought he'd have to work on April 26, and didn't ask anyone out. Turns out he had the night off—oh, man! So that afternoon he went and watched his friend David Kenley play a church basketball game and then went home with him. David was getting ready for the dance, and Bruce was sitting in the Kenley's livingroom feeling sorry for himself. But then David's sister, Kristen, came in and asked him if he was going to the dance. Bruce told her his sad story, and she said, "You have to go to the Junior Prom—you're a Junior! Isn't there anyone you know who doesn't have a date yet?" Bruce said there was one girl he liked, and he didn't think she was going. So Kristen asked who it was. When he told her my name she said, "She's in my ward!" and got him the ward directory. So I got the unexpected, but gladly received phone-call. (Kristen and David also told him it was easy to find my house—just look for the one with the bright porch light!)

Well, he came and picked me up and we drove to the dance. Now, believe it or not, I have a terror of dancing—-I mean, ballroom dance-style dancing. Because I don't really know how, so I feel kind of stupid (never mind that none of the other kids knew how to dance either). So I kept Bruce talking, and we wandered all around the reception center, inside and outside, and we had a lot of fun. Finally they started playing a big-band song that might be danceable (even for me)—In the Mood—and we walked out to the dance floor. [photo above: Jr. Prom reception center]

But, oh, horror! I felt the zipper of my dress pop, and it fell open to the small of my back. So I quickly excused myself to the bathroom where I spent a few frantic minutes wondering how I could explain this to Bruce without dying from embarrassment, and how we could get out to the car without losing my dress in front of half of my peers. But, oh, joy! It was a self-fixing zipper; zip it down and then back up again and all was well. Whew!

We enjoyed the rest of the evening at the dance, and when it was over we went to Leatherby's with Bruce's friends. David kept looking at me funny; I felt like I must be losing my dress again, but probably he was just amazed that I went to the dance with only an hour's notice. But it was fun! And it was the start of . . . something more than a beautiful friendship.

A short epilogue: About two months after the Prom, Bruce and I went to Lagoon (the local amusement park) and we saw the Kenleys there. Kristen said to me, "I can't believe you went to the Prom with him with only an hour's notice!" Wait! Whose idea was it? (But it was a good idea.)
And I still have the dress; it is yellowed with old age, and I'll never wear it again, but Bruce won't let me get rid of it. Awwww. Isn't he sweet (in kind of a silly, sentimental way)?

Lindsey models my aged dress.
It's almost a perfect fit—doesn't she look pretty in it?