Doubt about the Date
By Kendyl, age 17, Tennessee
The school had started nudging us with gentle hints: walls blazoned with glittery posters and invitations sent on thick cardstock. Get your tickets now, they encouraged us. You don't want to end up alone.
I was terrified of ending up alone.
Everyone was starting to pair up. My friends were no longer single names. They became Emily-and-Jonathan, Bethany-and-Austin, Sarah-and-Stephen. Suddenly, I resented the fact that I was just me.
Not such a good way to think about yourself.
Why did it seem like I was the only one left dateless? Sure, there were other friends who were going solo, but all I could imagine was me in sweats watching Pretty in Pink once again while my friends danced the night away in dazzling gowns.
What I didn't realize was that thinking I needed a guy to have fun at my junior prom fell into the same category as thinking I needed to stay in the kitchen to have a productive life. I'm a feminist, so when did my views get lost in thoughts of classic tuxedos and sweet-smelling carnations? I needed a man no more than I needed a horse-drawn carriage and tiara to have a blast when that night comes.
Just as I had this realization, I did get asked and now plan on having a date, but I don't feel that my name has to have a hyphen attached to it. I'm just me.
And that's finally good enough for me.
