Never Underestimate the Powers of the Handicapped

I moved to Tulsa the summer before my fourth grade year. We moved into a nice neighborhood full of kids my age this included my next door neighbor who I will call Special M, because he is mildly mentally retarded. Special M is a great kid, good sense of humor and the only thing wrong with him at first meeting is a serious stutter. Hell, the kid was a Special Olympics gold medalist. We lived next door to each other for about eight years so we pretty much grew up together.
My family moved to the other side of town my junior year in high school and we pretty much went our seperate ways after that with one exception. Shortly before graduation Special M's Mom called mine and asked if I would mind giving Special M a ride to our graduation ceremony and what our school called project graduation, which was a HUGE event after graduation the school threw so everyone wouldn't go out drinking and partying. They booked an old outlet mall to hold the thing in it was that big and they gave away a car so damn near everyone showed up, plus it was semi-mandatory. So he meets me at my house before the ceremony and we ride to it together and afterward we head off to project graduation.
Now I liked Special M, but the entire time graduation is going on I'm trying to figure out a way to ditch him once we get to the 'party', without him suspecting anything or hurting his feelings.

We finally make it to the party, we sign in, get our grab bags full of crap and I turn to tell Special M that I am going to see my friends and I'll see him later but he's nowhere to be found, I've lost my retard. I start to panic; how do you lose a whole person? He could have wandered off, retards do that I think. I begin frantically scanning the crowd trying to find my retard before he gets completely lost. I start picturing him alone, scared, trying to find me and eventually curled up in a corner crying. That's when I hear someone saying my name and I turn to see who it is. There's Special M, he's not lost, not crying; that asshole is in the middle of the biggest gathering of 'special' girls I've ever seen. Everyone of them pawing at him like he's a Backstreet Boy. He then raises his hand high in the air, smiles and waves, turns the other way (the international gesture for 'see you later') and is swept away down the corridor by the sea of lusty she-tards. I have now calmed down Special M is okay; as a matter of fact he's more than okay he's the SpEd Cassinova, the retard Romeo, the Don Juan of Down's Syndrome.

Then it hits me. That son-of-a-bitch just ditched me.