George Rodriguez (Selma, CA)

It was Freshman or Sophomore year at Selma High school (1993 or 1994), and Winter Formal (sometime near her birthday) was approaching. I asked this girl I liked big time, but unfortunately my cousin had already asked her (they worked together at Kentucky Fried Chicken – Azure Plazola – she was hot). That sucked. So I did the next best thing, I asked my friend, Emily (who was also hot). Hopefully you can see where this story is taking us.

I approached Emily and she turned me down (a couple times), but I was persistent. I finally wore her down and she said yes (after about 5-6 times). I was excited. I told my mom that I was going with Emily Bybee and she was excited too. She thanked me that I wasn’t going to the dance with some random, skanky girl. She liked Emily, who doesn’t? We went shopping the following weekend. I bought a suit, brand new shoes and even got a new haircut (just like the one I have today). The days leading up to the formal were strange though. Emily seemed to be avoiding me. I would stop her, and she would make up some random excuse and get away. I didn’t know any better – I just figured everything would be OK.

The night of the formal was great. I invited some friends over to take pictures; we were excited about what was to come. Everything seemed OK, but I began to get nervous. Their dates began to show, and here I was dateless at 7:00 p.m., when the dance began at 8. Then I got a phone call. The phone call. It was Emily, telling me she couldn’t go to the dance. I was heartbroken, devastated, embarrassed, and any other adjective you could possibly imagine. I instantly began to cry. That was something I hadn’t done in a long time. I eventually gathered myself and told my friends to go on without me. When I told my mom what had happened, she began to cry. Go figure.

The life lesson(s) (Notice it is plural): From that day forward, I always made sure to keep in contact with my dates. And it further reassured me that “nice guys do finish last.” Trust issues developed. Self-esteem dropped. And I developed this attitude towards Emily for about a year or so.

And since I work in a school, every time the winter dance approaches it’s like a dagger through my heart, salt poured on an open wound, a rope hanging from the ceiling. I’m exaggerating, I know. But I need to give her a bad time – she’s 30!!!!!

Congrats on your 30^th birthday, Em. You are truly an amazing person, friend, mother (I think so), and wife (I think so, too). Tyler is lucky to have you. May you have a terrific year.

Love,

George