The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.
I didn’t want to go to the Halloween Dance in 1995. I didn’t have a date. I wasn’t a guy who danced. Really, there was no authentic reason for me to be there. However, it did give me a reason to be over on that side of campus and being over on that side of campus might give me a chance to hang out, if only briefly, with the latest girl I’d fallen for.
Russel and I decided to head over together. We were barely costumed at all. I think we might have worn hats or something and we had clever answers for when someone asked us what we were. Though most of the attendants had gotten into the spirit of things I don’t think we were alone in being relatively dressed down.
I don’t recall spending too much time at the dance itself. It was rather boring and the band that was playing wasn’t very fun. They were goth and depressing and considering how dismayed I felt at not being able to get anywhere with this latest crush, the last thing I needed was sad music.
Eventually Russel and I made our way from the campus center over to Academy Hall, to the second floor where Rachael lived. She hadn’t been present at the dance and we had a hunch that she’d just be hanging out in her room. Sure enough, when we got there Rachael answered the door covered in pastel dust. She was working overtime on projects for art class and had no time for frivolity.
I think Russel and I each spent some time in there alone with her, or else I was the only one. I don’t think the three of us were in that little room all together. We talked a bit but I didn’t really have anything to say. I think Russel had been hoping that I would finally say something to her because he was probably sick of hearing about it.
I didn’t say anything though. I was a chicken-shit. I would have to wait a while longer before making any sort of declaration, if I ever would make one at all.