Motherhood/Parenting, Rants


promposalWell, it happened, the first promposal of the season has shown up on my Facebook feed.  Quite honestly I’m surprised it took this long.  Depending on your town and the number of high schools in it, prom season will start ramping up somewhere in April and continue into May ending roughly a month before graduation. For the next few weeks, you will not be able to find formalwear, get a timely alteration or get a reservation in a fancy restaurant on a Friday or Saturday night.  I do love seeing the kids all dressed up in their eveningwear.  The girls look so glamorous these days.  No, this isn’t me having a rose-colored glasses moment.  I recently found a picture of my high school prom and even the prettiest girl in class doesn’t hold a candle to most of the girls these days.  I don’t know if its all the contouring or that kids are starting to work out for sports when they are 5 but today’s teenagers are beautiful.  It’s kinda weird and in some ways an impossible standard to uphold.  Whatever happened to the super awkwardness of teen years? Which leads me to my topic today – promposals.

Look, I know I’m going to sound old and super salty and I don’t care.  Promposals are ridiculous and set an impossible standard to maintain for both genders.  If you happen to be living under a rock and don’t know what a promposal is, let me clarify.  It’s basically a kid using a grand gesture to ask another kid to the prom.  Sounds benign right? Wrong! Go Google the word promposal or better yet head on over to Pinterest and search promposal.  Oh. My. Freaking. Gawd. I have seen less pageantry at a Broadway type play.  A poem spelled out in rose petals or a dozen donuts as seen above.  Giant card letters in the front yard.  Did I just see skywriting? What about the jumbotron?  Seriously, we are talking grand gestures on the scope of a marriage proposal. Now I know not every teen is doing this over the top production but many are.  Recently, I was in the waiting room of a doctor’s office and overheard a conversation between two teen girls. One was telling the other what she expected from her boyfriend regarding a promposal.  These girls didn’t look like rich, entitled little princesses.  They looked like your average, messy bun, drive a hand me down beater, and babysit the neighbor’s kids on the weekend type teenagers.  But, the level of ridiculousness this girl was yammering about stunned me.  Let’s face it, if you are dating someone during prom season it’s a sure thing. There is no ask.  There shouldn’t be a promposal of any sort.  There should only be getting together to make sure your date doesn’t pick an outfit that looks like it came from 1972 and ensure your budgets are in sync so you can afford the limo, dinner and the after party.  I mean honestly!

Look, I know everyone appreciates the grand gesture. This whole business was probably started by some kid that didn’t think they had a prayer of getting a yes so why not go over the top and make it hard to say no.  I totally get it.  What I don’t get is the entitlement some of these kids feel they have to this grand gesture – like the girl in the waiting room.  What is it going be like for that girl and others like her when some guy wants to marry her?  If he does the standard down on one knee thing will that be enough?  And, what about the kid doing the asking? Will they feel so compelled to be creative and over the top they blow the budget on the ask? And, what happens when the answer is no? I can’t imagine the level of rejection that kid feels after all the time and trouble they went to for the over the top ask. I don’t know, to me, promposals feel like another instance where we are failing to teach our kids that truly magical times in life don’t always come with a grand gesture. Sometimes, the most magical times have their magic that doesn’t need to be created. It just happens.

Photo Credit:  Today’s photo is a screenshot of a Pinterest pin for promposal. No copyright infringement intended. Remember, I get no money from this blog and I’m broke so don’t sue me. You know, no blood from a turnip and that sorta thing.

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