time you got to her vagina, you’d
spent a lot of quality time together.
In September of grade twelve,
the matric dance was coming up.
Senior prom. This was the big one. I
was again faced with the dilemma
of Valentine’s Day, confronting
another strange ritual I did not
understand. All I knew about prom
was that, according to my American
movies, prom is where it happens.
You lose your virginity. You go and
you ride in the limousine, and then
you and the girl do the thing. That
was literally my only reference. But
I knew the rule: Cool guys get girls,
and funny guys get to hang out with