"Do you wanna go to Prom?" The networking of today's dating scene

I went to many dances throughout my high school years, and I don't remember all the details, but I do remember my senior prom. Most importantly, I remember my dress, because as I explained in this other blog post from only a few years ago, when it comes to prom, it's all about the dress. I also have a vague memory of how I was asked to my senior prom, and I'm pretty sure it went something like this:

Him: Hey, do you wanna go to prom?
Me: Sure!

Yeah, that was about the extent of it.

It is not like that anymore. I don't know if it's just being here in Utah (Utah has a culture all its own with some rather unusual traditions) or if it's true everywhere, but just asking someone to one of these high school dances is a giant ordeal. It involves all sorts of careful planning and networking and creativity. Just the "asking" part is a thing.

How do I know all this? Well you see, my baby is under the illusion that he is 16 and old enough to participate in such things as dates and dances. Which is beyond ridiculous because only just the other day, I was walking him up 450 E. each morning to Midvalley Elementary, our first year living here in Utah, when he was in 6th grade.

And now he is scheduled to attend not just one, but two (!) dances in the next two months. How'd that happen? As I said, it's complicated.

Hillcrest's Sweetheart's Ball is next weekend. It is a "girl-ask-guy" format, and a few weeks ago, Seth found a large poster outside on our doorstep, along with several candy bars. Glued to the poster was a combination lock. Lots of different girls' names were written on the poster, paired with different combinations. Seth had to try the different combinations until he found the one that opened the lock, which was next to the name of the girl who was asking him to the dance. How confused are you? Me too.

It didn't end there. "Will you text her and say you'll go?" I asked. Oh no, that would be way too simple. He had to do a thing. So he bought donuts and made a sign. The following night he coordinated with her friends to make sure she would be at home when he got off work, and then he doorbell ditched the donuts and sign on her doorstep. Okay, this is my Seth. Seth Webster Erichsen. Running around at night, leaving donuts on girls' doorsteps. What has happened to my sane world?

It didn't end there.

Just about the time he was all set to go to this dance, talk of prom began. Apparently there was a special day (D-day) when guys were supposed to ask girls to prom, but he totally missed that, so the girl he was supposed to ask (a different one from his date for next week's Sweetheart's Ball) was left waiting, the only one of this group of friends without a prom date. So last night he took care of that. She likes Hunger Games, so he made three large signs. Then he networked with her friends to make sure she would be home last night and left them by her door, along with candy and a Mockingjay pin.

Now, I guess, he waits for her to accept. "How do you know she got the stuff?" I asked. "She got it. Her friend just texted me."

Networking.

"Do you wanna go to prom?"
 "Sure!"

It's not so simple anymore.