Having lived well beyond the half-century mark, I have met a lot of women and have had the good fortune to have dated a few of them. But not many stand out in my mind like the one I took to my first junior-senior prom.

Women just don’t realize how much pressure, how much torment and anguish we guys go through simply trying to build up enough nerve to ask a girl out the first time. As was the case with my first junior-senior prom date at Pickens High School in 1963.

I remember her quite well. Her name was Carolyn. She and I exchanged pleasantries from time to time, and eventually we started talking with each other about the third month after we first met. We were classmates and sat near each other in history class. As time rolled by, I started looking forward to seeing her each day. I also noticed how pretty she was, and she seemed to like me.

Being involved in many other school activities, I lost track of time. Here it was springtime already, with the

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