(Too tired to think of acrostic)
I was determined to dance a bit, and I did. In fact, I was even asked- non-verbally, if I recall correctly- to dance. So I did.
But then the hands slid to far, and I grew very scared that the influence of the couples surrounding us, all of them terribly horrible to gaze upon because of their "dancing" (grinding) that looked like something that could be found in a pornographic movie, would lead the guy to try to initiate, through some way or the other (either openly or subtly), the same thing. I saw no escape; but, thank God, we ceased to dance for a moment and Sarah dragged me to the bathroom.
I didn't dare dance with anyone else all night (besides my kind and level-headed friend, Brittini)..
Homecoming is rather lame unless you are having a dreadfully slatternly and sinful time.