Thanks, Logan, for reminding me of that line. I need to netflix that movie.

I was a straight A, bookish high school student. Not pretty and not ugly, I used to fantasize about the Cinderella love story I could only imagine. I watched as other girls got asked out on dates and listened to the stories of what it feels like to get kissed for the first time. I suppose I was a little dreamy about how love and romance and being an adult were going to be.

My high school boyfriend (the only boy I ever kissed in high school!) was getting a little cold on me toward the end of the school year. Fully expecting that we would go to the prom, however, I picked out a dress and made all of the usual plans. Finally, two weeks before the event, he sent over a bag of flour . I had to search through all of the flour for the invitation hidden inside. (Oh… those clever high school kids!?!) I was going. It was all set.

I was the last girl to get picked up, and we three girls didn’t know where we were going. As we drove into town and up the hill to the (very small!!) airport, our dates revealed that they had hired private planes to take us to Laughlin, Nevada.

Laughlin, Nevada is a small gambling town on the border of Nevada. It is situated on a river and takes about an hour from my hometown to fly to. My date and I sat in the back seat of a four seater Cesna (the others were in another six seater) watching the red cliffs, winding river, and desert below. We were both awestruck by the scenery and by the fairy tale-ness of it all. Prom night. Flying in planes over the Colorado river.

(I later found out that the boys’ youth group leader was taking flying lessons and had offered to take us all for free. In this way, it was just as unimaginable for the boys as it was for the girls)

My date didn’t touch me or even really look at me the whole time. We arrived in Laughlin, went to a casino for dinner (which was just as average as anyone’s prom night dinner, but no one noticed because we were all too excited about the night and the flight and high school soon being over, etc), then we got back into the planes.

Everything had taken a bit longer than planned so that by the time we got back to St. George, the prom was over. We didn’t even bother going over to see if anyone was still there. We headed straight to one of the boys’ condo complexes where there was a big pool and a hot tub. We got into our swim suits and sat in the hot water in the dark to make out and do all of the stuff teenagers do on Prom night.

But, my date wasn’t interested. So I pestered him with questions about why. What was wrong? Did he hate my dress? Was my hair too curly? Over coifed? No… none of that. He just didn’t like me anymore.

So, that was that. We broke up. He took me home. I cried all night. And by the morning, everything was fine.

I had known that we were going to inevitably break up by the end of the school year. I was heading off to the east coast for school. He was staying in town to get a job and maybe take a few classes. What had been a welcome and mutually beneficial relationship for both of us had run its course. We no longer needed each other. It was time to move on.

Sometimes, when I think about this story, I remember it fondly: picking out a dress, deciding how to wear my hair, putting on makeup with my sister. And the planes, and the casino and the desert at night.

Other times, I can’t believe that my boyfriend broke up with me on Prom Night, that what was supposed to be the pinacle of my high school years ended in a flat “I guess we should just break up”.

Whether I call it the best night of my high school years or my worst (it was some of both!), I’m glad I went. For a girl who stood outside of the typical teenage drama, I felt like I was for the first time really participating. I had finally figured out enough about people and me and belonging to be part of it, for better or for worse.