Lent Day 4: Matric Dance

 

Last night Stephen and I went to our tenth matric dance together. Let it never be said that the romance is dead. Being a high school teacher puts one in an interestingly privileged position of reliving some of the most iconic high school moments, but with a fully developed frontal lobe. And the matric dance is certainly one of those moments. And the bonus is I get to experience all the build up from the perspective of a teenage boy. A perspective I was painfully not party to when I was younger because I was awkward, didn't get the zeal and immaturity of teenage boys and was patiently waiting for Tristan Ludlow (Legends of the Fall) to come and rescue me. Now I ironically spend most of my waking hours with a cohort who were once so unfamiliar to me but who now are my favourite things. 

Parents will know the following moment from the early days of parenting. Its the moment your kid wears a super special outfit for the first time. It might be a flower girl dress, or their first rugby kit, or a spiderman suit. But its a big moment that is accompanied by a swirl, or a pose, or a bashful half smile. Its a moment of tangible pride, mainly because your children know how amazing they look and how rad they make you feel. Let me tell you those moments are not limited to childhood, or to girls. Last night I had various boys present themselves to me (and probably to their parents, their siblings, their grannies and their dogs) and they literally did some swirls. They were so very stoked with themselves. If I could bottle up that feeling and dose them up with it later on in the year as they limp through the torrid eternity of trial and final exams I would.

As we sat joyfully consuming alcoholic beverages (another unexpected privilege when you're an adult at a matric dance) Stephen wondered where the boys managed to find so many beautiful girls as partners. And he's right,  they were so very stunning. Gone are upstyles and cheap makeup and butterfly clips, these girls looked so lovely (even if most dresses had a slit up to the nipple). I replied to Stephen that I wouldn't know where all these beauties come from because no one ever invited me to their matric dance when I was in high school so I was never in the running. To which Stephen replied, 'Where you still brushing your hair by then?' 

He makes an excellent point.

Not that Stephen rocked the socks off his matric dance either - I think he couldn't be bothered to find a date so went with his best friend. 

And now here we are - two of the most awkward former teenagers - relishing our tenth matric dance together. We happily both devoured our supper which had a very overpowering garlic vibe (I assume its insurance from the catering crew that your partner will not kiss anyone at the after party other than an attendant of the matric dance - even if it isn't you). We stole away... to watch a live video of Gray swimming his heart off at the DnD Gala. We argued when I tried to force him to take a selfie while he was trying to pour drinks. And by 9.30 we were making our way home in the mist talking about the thing we generally talk about - how much we love our kids. 

We may have been a little slow off the mark in our teen years, and I may have been brushing my hair into a lions mane every day, but I'm glad things have turned out the way they have... and that I've now definitely attended more matric dances than all the belters of my adolescence...