High School Reunion… a cringe-worthy phrase right up there with “anal bleaching” and “hipster chic.” This weekend I donned a homemade dashiki, grit my teeth and begrudgingly headed to my 10-year high school reunion.
via Giphy.com
It was so not how I would have expected it to be.
One of my former minions from JROTC--he used to be terrified of me (_)
WHAT IS THE POINT? WHY DID I TAKE THE NIGHT OFF FOR THIS?
Before we get into how my night went let’s take a second to examine the sordid history of high school reunions. Let’s face it there are two types of people: those who loved high school and those who treated it like a disease they survived (guess which one 
The shirt I laboured on for this thing
These days with social media, so long as you are linked up with your old classmates, any time you open an app that is your reunion right there. You see before the gift we take for granted (internet, smartphones) existed, it was a true mystery what became of all the people you knew as awkward teenagers. It was hard to reconnect with old friends and revel in their success and failures.
THE POISONED PERCEPTION
My unease and reluctance to attend this event comes from the way media has used this (would be) positive event for a tired trope for relieving adolescent trauma and/or validate or destroy the protagonist’s ego. In every scenario, they usually depicted the “popular” kids, the jocks and cheerleaders as people who have fallen from grace and are now incredibly average, meanwhile the nerds or outcasts become the hyper successful millionaires who are now drop-dead gorgeous. At any rate, the reunion feels more like an epic event meant to brag at how awesome you are X-amount of years later.
In reality this is who all of us were inside during our teens
I ain’t about all that. I have had a very meandering life far from the norm. In fact to me it seems my life’s trajectory is that famous poem by Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken” personified as a deranged little woman. So for me, going to my reunion would be me having to face what I haven’t done; a reminder that I am not conventionally successful. To make matters worse, my husband would not be able to accompany me for this nostalgic night.
Biting the bullet
Never the less, I hopped on my sewing machine and made myself a dashiki and strung together some new jewelry. I spent a grand total of two days wrestling my hair into a half-decent pony hawk, shined up my party boots and even painted my nails.
I had the good fortune to live literally down the street from the location where this shin-dig was being held. So, I gnashed my teeth and drove there feeling like I made a mistake the second I parked. Up, up the elevator and…
NOTHING!
There were maybe 10 or so people speaking in hushed tones. I was more than relieved to see an old friend from JROTC Nicole sitting with her husband (and high school sweetheart). I greeted them and we caught up. It was almost another hour and half before any significant number of people showed up. I knew practically everyone in our graduating class, yet no one from my old troop of outcasts really showed until—KAYLA!!!
God I missed her! She was my bestie before that term ever existed. I would say she was one of the very first people I befriended at McKinley High. We had nearly every other class together and got in more than our fair share oddball adventures. I was so happy to see she was every bit and humorous and fun I remembered. She too worked in television and we cringed over the horrors and rejoiced at leaving that nightmare behind.
puddinpaws circa 2006/2007
But she was the only one out of the nearly twenty members of the “Alternative” kids (we were the only ones who listened to the various sub genres of rock in school where hip-hop was king). There was this peculiar absence felt from those old friends not gracing us with their presence. It made me feel more like I was watching a reunion rather than attending one.
I noticed the people in the banquet hall were basically all the cool and popular ones of yester-year dancing about to the mid-2000s hits. It was a wicked good time, yet I had expected so much more. I mean, they were not very organized (they were still setting up an hour into the four-hour event) and the music was far too loud to have any meaningful conversations. In the end only about 50-60 of our huge ass 600 or more graduates made the effort to show.
Perhaps the only truly crappy parts of the night was the idiot who thought it was cool to not only hit on me but triggered me to bust out some strategically aimed punches (Thanks love, for the Muay Thai lessons—money well spent!) and at one point I had to choke him. He thought it would be cool to try and physically pick me up all while proclaiming his “love” for me (eww and blech). He made his rounds to all the ladies but he also kept trying to hit on Kayla. Dude wouldn’t take a fucking hint! It’s like dude—it ain’t cute to keep pestering women who in plain unambiguous English have expressed they are NOT INTERESTED. Ugh!
via Giphy.com
Well, at any rate, by the end of the night I was relieved and enjoyed myself. I never had to defend my lack of employment or feel awkward for not getting a master’s degree or not achieving all the goals I thought I would have. Instead I reconnected with my best friend and got to feel like the goofy kid I’ve always been inside.
Plus, Kayla and I got to revel in the fact that we were still more or less the exact same size despite a decade of madness. #Guiltypride
