The Story of My Second Homecoming

Any sensible person would have realized that dances and me were a bad combination after the first Homecoming. I thought it might be different if I went with a girl I actually wanted to romance. How very wrong I was.

I had known her for a while, but hadn't thought very much about her until the summer before senior year when we were on the same trip with a school group through Italy and Greece. I'll admit, I had a crush on her - and actually my theater teacher had suggested us getting together (I assume in jest, but with her it's hard to tell).

Anyway, I did my usual Homecoming routine of complaining and whatnot. Underneath that I was gathering up courage for a feat of derring-do. I asked her out. Over the phone.

Someone out there is doing a facepalm. It's probably me. 

She said yes.

Things were looking good, right? I'd actually asked her out - albeit over the phone, which was sort of a wimp move, but considering how nerdy I am, some might consider that sweet.

And then I realized that I hadn't specified that I didn't want to go as friends. Cue thinking far too much about it.

This time we did all the usual stuff - mums, football games, Homecoming shirts. We were with basically the same group as the first time, but that seemed like a better plan because this girl actually knew a good portion of them. The group got a party bus. I remember dancing next to her on the party bus. I remember dancing next to her at the dance. I do not remember dancing with her, probably because I didn't. I do remember feeling self-conscious the whole time. Our conversations tended to have this structure:
Me: awkward open-ended statement.
Her: awkward, short reply.
(awkward silence)
(repeat)

But overall I was feeling good about the whole thing, even after it was over. At least until I realized that we weren't talking anymore, ever. I tried going up to her, but it always ended up being awkward. I remember one time I found an especially colorful fall leaf and pressed it in a book and then gave it to her. Perhaps it was an interesting idea, but the execution made me want to hide under the covers until graduation. Finally I realized it was ending, and in a last-ditch effort to make something happen, I wrote a poem for her and gave it to her. Over facebook. It was a limerick.

She has since unfriended me.