Middle School is the absolute worst period of school a child ever has to endure. Kids are full of hormones and emotions, and try to beat each other out for their stake in social standing. Friendships are formed and broken and formed again. "Relationships" that last a week feel like the end of the world when they crash and burn. You no longer have one teacher who nurtures you for 7 hours a day, but suddenly have 6 different teachers, all with different expectations and rules and personalities. Middle school is societies version of Hell on Earth, and you are expected to survive it from the ages of 10-13. Yet, somehow we do.

Middle school dances are the best place to witness these social dynamics. Mean girls circle the dance floor waiting for their chance to pounce on the socially awkward like lionesses stalking their prey. Boys huddle in the corner, laughing and punching each other, like a pack of hyenas. Cliques line up for group pictures, struggling to decide who gets center stage and who is relegated to poke their heads up from the back. Eventually a mass of bouncing bodies emerge on the dance floor and teachers circle the throng breaking up those hormonal preteens who press their bodies in a little too close. The air is charged with emotion: excitement, anxiety, angst. And tears...oh, the tears of middle school girls could fill an Olympic sized swimming pool.

I went to most of my middle school dances. Steve Sharp, DJ Extraordinaire, was a staple of my childhood. Usually I went with my clique, although we would never identify as a clique. We were a mix of popular, socially awkward, band geek, drama nerd, athletic, fit in everywhere and nowhere. But one dance stands out: Sadie Hawkins. 

Sadie Hawkins is the cruelest joke a school could play on a teenage girl. The dance where you ask a boy to be your date. Teenage boys are awful. But one year I got up the courage to ask a boy I liked...and he said yes!!

I dressed in my prettiest 1980s dress, the kind with ruffled collars, hideous, but fashionable at the time. I untucked my hair from it's usual location behind my ears, and feathered my mass of bangs. I even was allowed to wear a touch of blush and lipstick. I was smokin'!

My parents were having a party that night, but mom dropped me off in front of the school. I was supposed to meet my date at the outdoor stage in front of the cafeteria and didn't want to be embarrassed by mom walking me in. Nervously I waited, and he showed up, looking like a dream in his sport coat  and jeans.  One handed him my ticket and he took my hand. I was floating. Finally, I had a boyfriend!

That elation lasted 10 minutes while we waited to enter. As soon as we did, he left my side to find his friends. I stood there alone. As the cafeteria filled, I lost sight of him. I recall circling the dance floor looking for him, even recruiting some of my friends to help. And then I saw him. Slow dancing with one of the popular girls. In my bravada, I walked up to the couple and stood there with my hands on my hips. He looked at me and started laughing, then turned away. And so did I because the tears started to fill my eyes. I ran out of the cafeteria and begged a staff member to let me call home. I wanted to leave.

I don't remember who picked me up. I remember crying all the way home. What I also remember is getting home to my parents party. And here's where the memory of my dad comes in. 

He was never one to offer words that parents usually comfort their kids with. I think he felt uncomfortable dispatching empathy. So when he did, you knew it was coming from a place deep within. His words that night are words that have become a guiding force when faced with people who are jerks in my life. Right or wrong, they help me survive. He took me aside and heard me out through my tears and snot. "So this boy blew you off?" "Yeesssss!", I bawled. "Well then...fuck him". I stopped crying and just stared at him. "Huh?" My dad repeated it. "Fuck him. You don't need him." I don't remember the exact words that followed, but they were something to the extent that I was smart and beautiful and an Owens girl, and he didn't raise us to put up with crap. 

He changed the music to Journey or Boston. I wish I could remember the song. What I do remember is dancing with my dad in the middle of our living room floor. A slow dance with the only man in my life that was there for me, time and time again. He fell short in a lot of things that society expects out of parents. But he more than made up for it in moments like these, moments where I needed him to remind me that I was special and important and worthy. And no person could ever steal my sunshine because he wouldn't let them. 

These days when people let me down, I circle back to that night. I'm smart, I'm beautiful, I'm an Owens girl. And you either walk beside me or move out of the way. I have to dance today and you won't steal that from me.

Miss you Daddy.