When Jacob Ness was considering how to ask his girlfriend Abby King to Olympic High School’s prom he wanted to pull out all the stops.
Ness had seen messages of a personal nature on the Mentor billboard near the Warren Avenue Bridge in East Bremerton and, “I just thought that putting that up there would be the mother lode of everything that would be up there.”
He rented the billboard, $80 for three days over a weekend in
late May, and roped Abby’s mom, Patti King, in as an accomplice.
The two drove Abby to the sign blindfolded. Abby was understandably
apprehensive. They spun her around and pulled off the blindfold to
reveal the message. Abby was speechless with surprise.
“It worked out perfect,” Jacob said. “I went over and touched her, and she grabbed onto me and started crying.”
In short, she said, “Yes.” Oly’s prom is Saturday. Jacob and Abby will wear outfits that match in what Jacob describes as “seafoamy green.”
Prom-posals, extravagant public displays of affection related to that all important dance, are nothing brand new (the first one that actually got media attention was in 2001, according to a recent article in Time). But the stakes have escalated within the past few years, as teens vie to come up with the most original and clever way to drop the question. And always there is the requisite posting on social media.
Prom-posals are delivered on footballs, vehicles and T-shirts.
Guys write them on pets and on themselves. Food — and for some
strange reason, chicken — seems to be a trend.
Someprom-posals are romantic in a quirky way, inappropriate way. One of my son’s friends last year pretended to get hurt while playing soccer. The girl he asked was in sports medicine and rushed to attend to him. He lifted his pant leg to show the word “Prom?” on his calf.
Yet other other prom-posals, like sunburning the word “prom?” on your back, or reclining in your underwear with rose petals and a giant teddy bear, just seem like a bad idea out the gate.