Blog Will Hunting welcomes guest contributor Elizabeth, of Chicago, Illinois.
Let’s be honest: I was a complete disaster my senior year of high school, in the spring of 1998. My best friend was going to the prom with my ex-boyfriend and I was going a little crazy. And, remember 1998? Matt Damon and Ben Affleck had just skyrocketed to fame, but they weren’t the superstars they are now. This was pre-Bennifer, pre-Bourne Identity and pre-Ocean’s 11.
But let’s rewind for a second (this was still the era of VHS after all)… I was 17 and desperate for the perfect prom date.
I begged my best-guy-friend to come with me, but he didn’t want to go, period. He didn’t like to dance, it was too expensive, and anyway, he was thinking of asking the cute freshman he had a crush on. I thought maybe I could go with the guy I went with last year, a blind date arranged so that my friend and her boyfriend would have company, but he had a soccer tournament that weekend. And another acquaintance was too busy fending off previous unwanted requests to seriously consider mine.
I could only think of one other option: Matt Damon.
I did a “peoplesearch” on yahoo.com to find his email address—the Internet was still young. There were several entries for people named Matt Damon, but one of these cited residence in Hollywood, California. Mattdamon@yahoo.com, in fact. So I noted this and considered how I might convince a celebrity to travel to southern Indiana to attend my senior prom.
The email I wrote was long, and in my attempt to sound sincere, to convince Matt that I wasn’t some crazed fan, I guess, it ended up a painfully detailed self-advertisement.
I began by giving him my name, telling him I was 17 years old, where I went to school, and insisting that what I was writing wasn’t “just some ordinary piece of fan mail,” that I wasn’t the “groupie-fan-mail-type.” I told him I had tried, “in one way or another, to get five or six guys to go to the prom with me,” but that “nevertheless, I remain dateless.”
“Please consider visiting Terre Haute on April 25,” I closed. “I believe you would have a great time, and I would be thrilled to have you join me. You could even come incognito, if you wish.” I said I would understand if he was too busy, but that I would like a response either way, and if he couldn’t come, maybe he could get one of his friends—Ben, maybe—to attend the prom with me. I signed it: “Sincerely, Elizabeth Marie Erickson” and attached a senior photo I had scanned, a picture of me in a white T-shirt and overalls with an American flag backdrop.
I didn’t feel any more danger of rejection than I did when I asked the guys at school. He’s the type who’d be up for an adventure, I thought, who might get a kick out of doing something as unexpected as going to the prom with some lonely girl in Indiana.
I tell this story every once in a while and people usually assume this is the end.
But he wrote back.
That is, someone wrote back.
The subject line read: “Elizabeth, you are beautiful!” He said he was impressed I had sent him my school picture, that I looked like the front of a Wheaties box, “All American youth and healthy!”
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he wrote, “but I must decline your prom invitation. I will be busy shooting on location that night. But I know a girl as beautiful and smart and interesting (you must be the prettiest girl in your school!) as you will have guys lined up waiting! Just choose one!”
I’ve never met Matt Damon, and I can’t be sure who answered my email. Honestly though, I’m just as grateful to the schmo who probably impersonated him as I would be to the potentially real Matt Damon, for taking the time to make a 17-year-old in Indiana feel a little less alone.
Editor’s Note: By the way, “Elizabeth” is a pseudonym… so Matt Damon, if you’re out there, don’t bother people-searching her.
