An excuse for things they would claim to regret tomorrow

my reflexion on winter formal

Sweat.  Air thick with hormones and underlying tones of vodka.  Pulsing base creating a constant stream of white noise.  Too much makeup, too little clothing. Teachers milling about hoping that their sheer presence will make the whole thing awkward enough that the couples would break apart.  Things that my grandmother would have been ashamed to do in the bedroom are on display for any one who can get enough light.  A single solid block of bodies jiggling and jostling each trying to get closer to the center out of view.  Tomorrow the'll explain how drunk they were, tomorrow they'll claim the were so high last night is all a blur.   But tonight they can let sheer animal instinct take over no one can or will think less of them.  They were soo wasted.  They would never do such a thing of they're own accord.  The crappy music cuts out as the friend-of-a-cousin-of-an-aquaintance who djs (really well i promise and he'll work for free) messes with the turn table.  The cheap "fancy" dresses the girls wear.  The ill fitting tux or all too tight sports coats.  The body odor clinging to them as they lose themselves in the music, in each other, in their own intoxication.  The sheer instinct takes over: i touch her there, he touches me here this rhythm comes over them, all together separate from that of the low rumblings of some 5 year old song played for the 3rd time this evening alone.  The freshmen in the corner bawling her eyes out surrounded by a keen audience of vultures and friends.  The seniors discretely passing around a clear liquid filled water bottle.  The awkwardly placed tables filled with the-people-who-don't-dance eating under-baked over-processed cookies and trying very hard not to look at the people dry-humping on the dance floor.  It's mixing business and pleasure.  There is nothing attractive about these sweaty physical bodies that you've known for far to long trying to become one.  The intimacy gone replaced by a strange longing for flesh against flesh teachers principle classmates be damned.  Eventually the music fades but the jumping kissing screaming takes much longer to evaporate.  The partners take one more opportunity to explore each others curves and file out.  They leave by the stairwell trailing their expensive jewelry and clustering around the sweaters confirming the gossip they couldn't quite make out above the music upstairs high-schoolers once again the beasts inside them sated until their next opportunity to be "really really drunk".

Another winter formal down.  1 more to go.

Author's Note

Any comments (even on parts as opposed to the whole thing) appreciated. I'll probably end up cutting some of this.