To A Young Gentleman

The woman I took to a high school Homecoming dance twenty-eight years ago reached out to me the other day. Her son is now getting ready to attend his own high school Homecoming. Watching him wrestle with the trials and tribulations of being fourteen put her in a reminiscing mood, which led to her contacting me to say that these many years later she still had warm memories of the night.

It was a nice note to receive. It put me in a reminiscing mood, too, and the next thing I knew I’d written out some advice to a young man on the event of his first formal.

With the permission of a woman as gracious today as she was twenty-eight years ago, I present the following advice.

Jasper —

You don’t know me from the wind, and that’s okay. Twenty-eight years ago I took your mom to Homecoming at Mount Vernon High School. We were each about your age now. I’m sure your parents have given you all manner of good advice, and I’m sure it’s good stuff. These are just my own meandering thoughts, reflecting on what it was like to be your age, and taking your mom to Homecoming. There might be some useful tips here. (And there might not be, too.)

The first thing: as hard as it may be to believe, we were once your age. We remember what it’s like. The night I asked your mom to Homecoming I was in Solon watching my older brother play in a football game. Your mom was in the bleachers with me. Now, maybe she was as bored by the game as I was, or maybe I was just more interesting than I thought, but we started talking and paying more attention to each other than to the score. Then the game was over, people were going their separate ways, and I was scared out of my mind. I’d had a really nice time with her and I knew that come Monday we’d just be ships passing in the night in the halls of high school. But if I asked her out, wow, she might have said no, and I might get laughed at, and … man, I didn’t want to look like an idiot, and I didn’t want to be laughed at, and I’d decided that no, I wasn’t going to risk that at all, not for me. And then she was about to walk away and I decided I really didn’t like that. The bravest thing I’d done in my life up to that point was to ask her to Homecoming. The biggest relief I had in my life up to that point was the pleasantly surprised look on her face and hearing her say “yes”.

Second, let each other off the hook. When your mom was pinning on my boutonniere she accidentally stuck me with the pin so hard my undershirt had a dime-sized bloodstain. I made a point to not let her know: I laughed, she apologized for sticking me, we moved on. And I am absolutely certain that I screwed things up that night, too — but your mom has never mentioned any of them to me. If you’re focused on making everything perfect, you’re going to have a terrible night. Let go. Let her off the hook. She’ll do the same.

Third, in years to come you’ll remember her eyes and her laughter far more than you will her clothes. Appreciate her clothes, show her that you like her fashion sense, but — brother, please, believe me: notice her eyes and listen to her laugh. That’s where the real treasure is. That’s what you’ll remember.

Fourth. Get over yourself! Neither of us were of driving age, so my brother and his date were supposed to pick us up after dinner. Your mom and I were waiting in front of the restaurant for forty-five minutes. I was humiliated, I was embarrassed, I was furious at my brother and at myself. Your mom tried to make me feel better, but I refused. In hindsight, man, I should’ve just gotten over myself. I could’ve been laughing and joking with your mom for forty-five minutes, no grown-ups around, no chaperones, just us… and what did I do instead? I wasted almost an hour taking myself too seriously. (And making your mom feel bad, too, because she wanted to make me feel better, and I refused.) Imagine how much wiser it would have been if we’d spent that time having fun!

Fifth. Remember she’s dealing with a lot of the same feelings you are, the same confusions, the same frustrations. Let her be complicated. Let her be her. If you let her be her and she lets you be you, well… that’s about as good as a date gets.

Someday, pass on your own experiences to some young man who might need them. There aren’t enough gentlemen in the world, Jasper, and those of us who are part of that brotherhood need to make sure the lessons get passed on.

Good luck. Have fun. Be amazing.