Cozy Cottage Farm


If you have a poem, haiku, or brief story about an X friend, boyfriend, girlfriend, or any person: good or bad; happy or sad; nostalgic or histerical, share it if you wish.  Nothing obscene, please.

High School Senior Prom:

Blind date, got blind drunk,

left me in the lurch,

then threw it all up on the lovely table

at the St. Regis Hotel in Manhattan.

Had to have limo driver open windows

so my date’s head could hang out!

It started snowing…and blowing…

Window stuck open.  Hairdos and spirits dropped.

Lessons:  don’t let your older sister set you up with a blind date for your Senior Prom.  Don’t go to your Senior Prom because your mother never got to go to hers because her father had just died of cancer.  Then you have to lie to her for the next ten years about what a wonderful time you had so she won’t feel bad about the $40. She spent or your red taffeta Prom Gown…the one she would have loved when she was 17!


This entry was published on June 19, 2017 at 6:17 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

10 thoughts on “X’s

  1. Love it!! The last line is really poignant “hairdoos and spirits dropped.” I like the lesson part too.. I think that would make a great foundation for a short story.

  2. Also, how about “drooped” instead of dropped for the last line. I really think this could make a wonderful short story!

    • Hi Em – dropped feels stronger than drooped ( as in drop dead)…I wanted to just open the car door that his head was drooping out of and shove him out into the snow…that’s what writers can do in fiction!

  3. Sheila T. Scott on said:

    Wow! That story brings back memories! I wanted to go to my Junior Prom but didn’t have a date! At the time I had a group called “Sheila and the Starliners”, drums, base and guitar with me the soloist. We actually won the finals of the Hampton Beach Talent show the summer before with two of my original songs. Well, back to the prom; I ended up getting the nerve to ask my guitarist if he would escort me. He accepted and that night I was crowned Junior Prom queen. On the way home he gave me his school ring and wanted to go steady. I returned the ring at our next rehearsal as I knew he was caught up in the moment and didn’t want to hurt his feelings that night. Oh! My! The memories of being 15!

  4. I got this through email but I cNt find it on the blog. Such a powerful telling of a universally painful story!

  5. Thanks Fran – I just started back to blogging with Em’s encouragement. It was working well (the mechanics of posting and replying) and then …? …well, thanks for your reply…I hope this gets back to you… Mary

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