A horn blurted its sound from the void outside my room. Senses of impending doom and panic filled my veins, urging me to style my towel-dried hair. Emerging from my room all I could hear was my mother’s voice inside, my head, ‘You can’t go out looking like something that the cat dragged in’. I had no choice. I had to go.
Stumbling down the stairs I completed my first task; I had made it to the front door. A silver stretch limousine awaited this startled girl who was ambitiously trotting down the marble steps.
During the everlasting journey to the Manor House, imagined scenes of ballroom dancing in front of a piano player and a few talented violinists filled my head, preparing me for the task ahead.
Excitement filled my head as we pulled up to the inviting main entrance. I instantly lost all control of my body and fell to the stone that lay beneath everyone else’s feet. As I managed to prise myself off the floor, which was an almost impossible task with the ridiculous shoes my mother had insisted that I wear, a hand reached down in an attempt to pull me back to my feet.
Praying inside that this would not be an ironic situation, with him up above playing a cruel trick on me, I looked up. God had seen an opportunity to challenge and torment me. There stood my date. His sharp tuxedo was as black as the dead of night and a starched white shirt was escaping at the collar.
After the extravagant meal, in the company of two hundred other guests, we decided to attack the dance floor. Knowing I had not danced a step in my life Tim gracefully guided me across the candlelit dancefloor. I earned a major achievement that night. I managed to avoid my partner’s feet whilst dancing the night away. There were only seven isolated incidents in which our feet crossed paths. Apart from Tim mocking me for each separate trampling we got on like a house on fire.
Everything was rosy until it was time to leave the luxurious setting of my first date. The floor that I had gotten to know personally at the beginning of the evening beckoned me to say a personal goodbye. God was mocking me as well that night. Before I could reach the cold stone floor that lay beneath me I fell into my date’s sturdy arms. Regaining my balance I felt the capillaries in my face burn and ignite my whole face into a glowing red mess. Smoothing my crumpled dress as I walked I made it back to the safety of the stretch limousine.
Unfortunately collapsing into the generously proportioned leather seats was not an option as the other passenger, Tim, climbed in after me.
It was obvious that Tim was dying not to laugh because of the odd expression on his face; either that or he was constipated! Only I could have been capable of embarrassing myself that many times in one night and we both knew it. Eventually I just started laughing hysterically and he joined me, the chauffeur must have wondered if we were all right.
We chatted for the entire journey to Tim’s house, or should I say mansion? I never wanted these precious moments to end. As we neared the end of ecstasy we agreed to eat for a pizza, more my kind of date, the next weekend. Pulling up to the front door, Tim’s parents emerged with grins on their faces begging to let them take our pictures. After the usual protest from myself the battle was lost and they used a whole roll of film.
Hazy roads passed me by on the trek back to my nest. Thoughts were a blur, racing through my mind. What had happened tonight? Was it all a dream? Will we meet again?
Welcoming lights and warmth called me into my home. I think my parents asked me something but I cannot remember what they said. I sprawled myself across my bed and for no apparent reason I burst into tears.
