SHOCK

It’s a theme party called ‘Shock Your Mom’.

“What’s that?” I ask, waiting to be shocked.

  
I am a mom. That’s a daunting task.

“Girls are supposed to arrive at the party wearing so few clothes that they’d shock their moms,” Freshman explains.

“Oh. And what about the boys?” I inquire, wondering what clothing - or lack of clothing - the gents might consider wearing.

“Oh, the boys won’t be shocked at all.”

Sigh.

The most shocking element of that conversation?

It didn’t shock.  Little does.

Rewind three decades. High School dances were loud, bright, sweaty, euphoric mixers where teenagers used every inch of the gymnasium floor to dance, gossip, flirt, tease, and engage in awkward or exaggerated conversation. Slow dance numbers were anticipated and/or dreaded, depending on whether Crush-of-the-Month or Stalker-of-the-Month asked for a dance.

(Note to youths who may be reading: Stalker-of-the-Month oftentimes becomes Crush-of-the-Month, so don't be mean to Stalker-of-the-Month.)

What mattered way back then was letting loose and having fun.

And figuring out The Game of Attraction.

Fast forward to 2012. High School dances come with advance warnings for chaperones.

“Whatever you do, stay out of the gym,” Scarred-for-Life veterans tell Novice Chaperones. “You’ll want to open that door and peek inside, just for a minute. Don’t do it.”

Why?

Because High School dances are loud, dark, sweaty, euphoric mixers where teenagers congregate mid-court on the gym floor to ‘Freak the Freshmen” and engage in ritualistic behaviors heretofore reserved for unneutered puppies.

What matters nowadays is acting loose and fitting in.

High Schools insist on dress codes, honor codes, and extracurricular contracts signed in blood. And they are careful to present their students with acceptable standards of conduct for every dance: “Yes, we’ll turn off the lights, blast the tunes, and shut the doors. We expect you to behave.”

My friend, an Admissions Counselor, says it's even more fun once you get to college. Strangers with a few beers and a common mission will happily broadcast their mating activity with anyone who happens to wander into a mixer, or the student lounge.

Anthropology majors, you're welcome.

Lest I come off as 1840s Schoolmarm, I want you to know that some of my friends have read Fifty Shades of Grey.

And liked it.

I'm just feeling sorry for our kids.

And The Game of Attraction, so full of mystery, wonder, anticipation, longing.

Ironically, it appears to be as endangered as arctic ice.

Like restraint. And discretion.

Rushed and pressured, do our kids know what they’re missing?  

Catching someone’s eye, and catching your breath. A quick hello that leads to conversation.
First laugh. First date. First touch. First kiss.

Mystery, wonder, anticipation, longing, that unfolds over time. Is anything quite so disarming, raw, thrilling?

Of course The Game of Attraction has winners and losers. It takes effort.  Patience. And it's crazy  challenging in our instant gratification, pressure-cooker culture where the media, social networks and warp-speed technology have eliminated the unknown, and left little chance for chance. To happen.

The Bard tell us, "Journeys end in lovers meeting."

Understood.

But it's the journey that begins at that first glance or greeting that supercharges the spirit. 

Jolts the heart and head.

Whether it's a short trip, or one that becomes the journey of a lifetime, it mustn't be rushed or pressured.  

Squeezed into dance or party time frame.

Someone tell that to our kids.

I bet they'll be shocked.