I accepted an invitation to prom from one boy to make another boy jealous. It was an ill-fated plan from the start and one of the most miserable moments of my teenage life was slow-dancing with my date while watching the boy I liked slow dance with his.
My date was a very nice person and not wholly unaware of my motives. I borrowed a sparkly gown and wore my hair curly and big. I felt prettier that night than any other night of the year, but it was lost on the only person I cared about noticing. We stood in line to take the formal pictures behind the other couple, the girl (in fluffy pink) oblivious to the tension between myself and the tuxedo-clad boy by her side.
This memory, fifteen years later, still makes me wince. After his prom, I barely saw or spoke to my date again. The boy who rode off in his truck with the girl in pink later proclaimed his love and I reciprocated, but time had moved on and we never got the chance at a real relationship.
My arrogance and deception, genuine affection that somehow got twisted. These are the things that stay with me.