Some 52 Girls

[tedwords]

"You realize this is my prom night, right?" my friend Leslie informed me, as we sat at our table this past Saturday night, basking in the glow of a sweet chocolate mouse confection and drowning in the sudsy sounds of the house "just a shade too" smooth jazz band.  

"How so?" I asked, taking another stab at my mousse.

"I never went to my prom in high school," she explained. "I was going to go with this guy from Buffalo, New York, but he insisted he was going to go wearing Chucks, and I didn't want that, so I refused to go." She shook her head. "He turned out to be gay. Now here I am, twenty years later, dressed up in a fabulous gown and at the prom with three gay guys. Nothing ever changes."

She glanced over at her date to the prom, David, who was on the dance floor, where he would remain all night long. Shucking and groovin', that one. He was celebrating FREEDOM! Freedom from his ex-wife. Sweet independence was playing her siren song, and he was loving it.

I held her iPhone in my hand, watching two enormous uncut schlongs bobbing up and down on the screen. "Somehow I don't think you would have been watching gay sex videos at your senior prom in high school. Not then."

"This one's a classic!" she shouted. "DavidSF. I could watch him all night long."

"Leslie, you're into women, why in the hell do you watch gay porn?" Corb asked.

Leslie, ever the inquisitive legal mind, considered the line of questioning. "In the first place, have you ever seen lesbian videos? They're all girlie girl and so boring. They make everything so frilly. The ways gay men direct gay porn is much more direct and aggressive. Keeps your attention. Besides, let's face it, dicks are way more interesting to watch."

I couldn't take my eyes off the screen. "I agree," I nodded. "You're right, Leslie, I could watch this all night."

Corb snatched the phone out of my hand. "Those two ladies in ball gowns just saw that guy using his fist of fire!"

"Have another mousse, Corbie," I said, glancing over at the eight other dishes at our table. "We've got our own mad tea party going on here."

###

The featured guests at the benefit the B-52s, rolling out all their classics, even Mesopotamia. They were great fun, even if, as Leslie, ever the wag put it, "We got to see the B-52s when they were the B-65s." 

I didn't care. I've always had a huge soft spot in my heart for the tacky little dance band from Georgia, and it was fun to be five feet away from Fred and Kate and Cindy, belting out some of my favorite songs ever, such as Planet Claire and Love Shack and of course, Rock Lobster.

I remember buying their first album when I was in my teens, with its garish yellow cover. I played it constantly. The second album was even better, in my opinion. "Private Idaho," practically the story of my life. "Quiche Lorraine," with its sad story of the dog dyed dark green who leaves Fred for a poodle. And, best of all, "53 Miles West of Venus"...I can still remember the thrill I would get, turning that song up as loud as I could, dancing around to the sad repetitive chorus, a sad skinny lonely teen who felt a little left of Venus, himself.  

They were having fun, you could tell. Even if it was for a boatload of doctors at a hospital fundraiser. I don't think anyone else there knew all the words, but I was singing along.

What a prom for Leslie. Twenty years later, but at least she had the B-52s as her prom band. Not every girl can claim that, after all.

On the way home, I danced down the escalator, doing my best Fred Astaire. Corb caught it on video. We went home happy and just a little bit drunk. The midnight loving wasn't that bad, either...Fred, you're okay with that, right?

Fred?