I actually wrote a story explaining this:

Spring had finally arrived in the small town of Riverside, as was made apparent by the swirling hormones of the students at Riverside High. It was also made apparent by the sweat stains in the pits of teenage boys as the field of prom dates grew thinner and thinner. Irving’s story is of particular interest, much more so than the other boys’. You see, Irving was like the other boys in all aspects except for one: he preferred the other boys. As if prom time wasn’t painful enough without a date, he shuttered at the inevitable scrutiny he would receive if he even asked the person he really wanted to go with, much less actually appeared at the dance with him.

Ronny Doyle was a star wide-receiver on Riverside High’s varsity football team. He was a team All-American, a straight-A student, and, perhaps most importantly, a senior. Many girls chased him, with Irving lingering in the shadows behind them. Irving would occasionally sit at the table next to Ronny, and would, back to back, imagine what it would be like to be sitting in the same position, just a table over, face-to-face with his muse. He would eavesdrop intently when Ronny spoke about art in music and media to his less attentive football buddies, and Irving would sway nauseously as Ronny described his most recent sexual encounters with their female classmates. Irving realized his chances of showing up at the dance with Ronny were ridiculous at best, but yet he steadily hung on to the glimmer of hope he saw in Ronny’s eyes as they made contact with his, Ronny occasionally smiling with a confident radiance that even the blind could see.

A funny thing about Riverside: the river that the town had once been on the side of (and had since expanded to encompass) had been dammed several years ago, leaving a marshy, baron scar down the center of the city. Young boys would sometimes challenge each other to cross the trough to prove their bravery among the dangerous elements and wildlife, which only occasionally resulted in a call to the fire department for rescue. Ronny had conquered the trough at the age of 12. Nobody had ever dared Irving to cross.

While Irving didn’t fit the many extreme feminine clichés of our time associated with homosexuality, he did have a guilty pleasure: designing and making clothing, specifically dresses. He had kilometers of fabric that he would stitch together with miles of thread to create the most beautiful ensembles that nobody had ever seen. Anyone entering his closet would face confusion due to the overwhelming larger amount of women’s clothing in what was obviously a boy’s room, that is if anyone had ever been permitted to enter. His parents were not even aware of his sexual orientation, much less his dress-making hobby. He would only sew in the middle of the night with this small, white sewing machine he saw and purchased at an estate sale for $8 while riding a bike through his neighborhood 4 years prior. Now he was a senior in high-school, and, though his closet was splitting at the seams with the hundreds of dresses he had created, the machine still sang magically as it would rapidly stab his never-ending supply of fabric.

Prom was only one week away, and Irving’s anxiety had been leading to sleepless nights. Ronny had, only the week before, selected (seemingly arbitrarily) his date from the many girls biting his ankles. The girl he asked, one Sam Bernstein, even had a date already, whom she promptly discarded for a night with the king. Irving would dream about dancing the night away with Ronny, both in suits, only to have one thought enter his mind each time: the closest I will ever get to that is his date were wearing my dress. From the day he heard the news of Ronny’s invitation, he made a dress every night meant to compliment Sam’s figure and style. Then he would then hang it in his closet, shut the door, lock it, and sleep.

One night, after the machine had finished it’s a cappella, he formulated a plan. He needed to find where Ronny and Sam would be dining before the event. He would bring the dresses he made for Sam, along with his sewing machine, as if they were meant for delivery somewhere the following day. He would find a way to destroy the dress she was wearing and make it up by supplying her with one of his dresses, which he could adjust on the spot for her with his little machine. He sat next to Ronny at lunch, back-to-back, every day that week until he heard the jocks come to a consensus: a small Italian place next to the once gorgeously flowing river the town had once sat in awe of, who now had to keep their doors and windows tightly shut to turn away the droves of mosquitos and flies that hung in the air like water vapor near the trough.

The night of the prom had arrived. Early that Saturday morning, before his parents stirred, Irving placed seven dresses into the trunk of his Honda. He cut a rose from his neighbors bush and set it on the lapel of his tux, which he had laid out on his bed. He didn’t have a date, but he somehow knew this would be the best night of his life. His plan was flawless. There’s no way Sam could turn down all seven of his dresses that close to the event, especially because he believed the dresses to be immaculate. She may even want more than one, if not all seven! Irving imagined Sam saying as the restaurant clapped and Ronny smiled.

He arrived at the restaurant alone, in his tuxedo, and sat where the group of football players and dates could not easily spot him. He waited patiently, nervously until he saw the waiter and assistant carrying out large trays of food. He slowly slid his chair back, shaking a bit, and casually began the stroll to their side of the restaurant. His palms were hot and mouth was dry as he drew nearer. He saw the waiter lift a large plate of pasta with red sauce and knew this to be the dish he was waiting for. He was however, much further away from their table than he wanted to be. He walked faster, stumbling some as he tried to keep his eyes on the waiter, who moved more swiftly than any he’d ever seen. He was a few chairs away from Sam, but the waiter was walking too quickly away from him. Right as he was behind Sam’s chair, the waiter was several chairs down and still walking. This was a failed attempt and he needed another plan. His heart racing, he turned abruptly around to return in the direction he had been heading. He failed, however, to notice the waiter’s assistant behind him and dove chest first into an entire tray of sodas. The assistant spilled and stumbled in the direction of Ronny’s table and dumped the majority of the tray of drinks on the person sitting immediately to the right of Sam, which was Ronny. Ronny rose and, as ice fell out of his lap, turned toward Irving, who also stood drenched with soda. Then, without words, without anger, seemingly out of obligation, Ronny pulled back his fist and punched Irving square on his nose. Irving stumbled a step before being caught by the assistant waiter helping to keep his balance. He stared blankly, eyes wide, into Ronny’s face as the pain began throbbing and a small trickle of blood made its way out of his left nostril. He then quietly stormed out of the restaurant as the remaining patrons sat in silence for several moments.

Irving got outside and went to his car, mumbling obscenities to himself. He opened his trunk and took out his favorite dress from the seven he brought. The intricate floral design, what made this material the most expensive of all the material he owned, was then thoroughly smeared with blood as he cleaned his face. I’ve had it with these people and this school. I’ll show these pricks. You all think you’re such big badass men. I’ll show you. He grabbed his sewing machine a closed the trunk. He walked over to the restaurant, which now had a UPS truck sitting out front and running. I’ll show you all. He lifted a softball size chunk of the crumbling curb and chucked it through the glass façade of the restaurant, which shattered in a loud shower of diamonds. There was some yelling as people began to file out of the restaurant to learn the source of the commotion. As soon as Irving saw Ronny exit the restaurant, he ran to the UPS truck and hopped in. This maaaaaan enough for ya Ronny? as he put the vehicle in drive and floored it towards the trough, the one which he had never crossed. The truck went airborne over the initial drop, slammed into the bottom of the trough, and, because of momentum alone, bounced and slid across the muck and up half of the other bank before coming to an abrupt halt on the other side of the once beautiful river. Irving picked up his sewing machine, stepped out of the truck and began walking down the sidewalk, smiling at his deed. For the first time in his life, Irving felt like a man.