I've watched my fair share of high school reunion-themed movies.
There are funny versions, dramatic versions... and I think there might be a horror flick up in there somewhere.
I finally became part of the population who can admit to attending such a thing-- a high school reunion.
I feel like my version of the reunion was a little bit of everything.
First, the preparation.
The day OF the reunion, I was running late due to the gym, a broken water pipe at home, and a very violent outburst from ANGRomalY.
So, thanks to this violent mishap, I was running late to the tailgate.
When Kelley and I finally showed up to school, to our not-so-surprise, we saw there was only a small table of our ex-classmates located in front of a food truck (overall, our graduating class was roughly 200 kids).
NONE spoke up to us. NONE.
No surprise there, either.
We walked around the school, feeling a horrible case of unexpected, unwelcome nostalgia... so we walked back out to the classmates.
I waved at one of the ex classmates, and he waved back.
Kelley and I stood by the trashcan, since Kelley's dude (our "group" was Kelley, her dude, another ex-schoolmate, and me) was eating his food (ordered from the food truck).
It was like we were living an episode of Freaks and Geeks... a 2013 episode. Cool kids sitting and mingling at a round table, us four geeks standing by the trashcan, observing.
After a couple of minutes of debating whether or not to go to the Homecoming football game going on in the distance, three of the "popular" girls approached us.
"I remember your name, you're Kelley. You (pointing at me), your face is familiar and I remember seeing you around at school, but I can't remember your name..." said the girl who finally decided to speak up. I remembered her FULL name... I had ONE class with her ever, and there I was, mentally repeating her name, but refusing to utter it.
The shortest girl sensed our uneasiness, and it was visible in her face-- she wanted to leave us alone... but the other two continued yapping away, wanting to introduce themselves (again, I remembered their full names, but acted as if I had NO fucking clue who they were). It was all so fake... SO SO fake. So fake, I felt SAD.
I stood there and listened to their life stories... fake smile plastered on my face as I debated how I should respond when my turn approached.
Cunt-y? Pretentious? Condescending? Curt? Sincere?
I went with sincere... then turned on the bitch-level when I heard their questions.
"So... when do you find the time to travel? You've managed to visit all these places while... on summer break? How do you get time off from work to see all these places?"
Me: I don't work and I travel whenever I feel like it.
No one else was getting questions... why the fuck was I?
I'm sure to anyone reading this it might seem uncalled for-- my behavior-- but see, you had to be there to get a feel for the air... to hear their tone... to see their faces. These girls were self-centered chicks... chicks who never gave a fuck about anyone who was not part of their tight-knit group. They didn't even smile at you if you weren't part of the group. How would people be admitted to their group? Be pretty, of course.
Anyway, once that weird exchange was over, we went ahead and, as a band, headed for the football game and our designated seats... my group of 4 being the ones at the back, of course.
We sat there for half the game... getting group photos taken and all that.
Once the cold became uncomfortable, we headed for the bar.
The bar was where things got super interesting. We all had name tags and seats... and warmth... and alcohol.
More photos were snapped and more mingling was done.
This is where the distinction was made in the chicks. Men, for the most part, looked good regardless of their life choices, but girls? It was blatantly obvious which girls were the nerdy/studious/good girls because we (yes, obviously I include myself here. I have anger issues, but I'm a good girl) were the younger looking broads. The hard-drinking/obsessively tanning/ heavy make-up wearing girls looked old or tired. But I shouldn't talk so much shit, because overall, we were a decent group of people who aged sort of well.
I looked around and felt like an out of place kid (I should have been keen to this earlier, since the lady who sold me my game ticket asked me if I was a kid... ME... a kid. Must be my perpetual look of confusion that made her ask this). Many guys and chicks were trying to hook up, or looked interested... I just looked scared or repulsed.
Then I saw my high school crush. World stopped. Heart moved to my esophagus for the rest of the night.
In high school, this guy had a beautiful face... and a cartoon voice. His smile would make me smile... and daydream. His eyes were big and bright. He was funny, but never by making fun of others. He wasn't very bright-- normal, I guess, and he was very, very short... and scrawny. I never spoke to the boy, though. Since we never shared a class, I had zero reason to speak to him... had to settle for watching him walk by during lunch... or by chance bumping into him in a hallway.
Now? He is beautiful. His voice is hot. His smile is still radiant AS FUCK. His eyes are a little sad now, however... which sucks. He has this scruff going on... and BOY! did that shit inspire sighs out of me! He's bulky... thick neck and thighs and broad shoulders and big hands... and damn! Just so beautiful.
Best of all: he's tall! Taller than me!
He's an engineer of some sort, so I guess he was smarter than the average bear.
As I was chatting up one of my best friends, she spotted him walking by and called him over.
I froze. I looked him straight in the eyes... and I froze.
What do I do when I sense I'll like a guy too much? I separate myself... I run away.
And I did just that. I let my friend walk over to him alone, and I took a seat ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM, like the total fucking idiot that I am.
I held eye-contact with him three more times throughout the night... and he would often be near me... but I never worked the nerve to SMILE or introduce myself. I just looked at him like a fucking deer caught in headlights... suffering weird, panic-driven thoughts. Fuck fuck fuck! He's so gorgeous... fuck fuck fuck... I'm gonna puke! Is he behind me?! WHY is he behind me! Get away, get away, get away! God... he's so gorgeous. Goddamn it, I should have dressed up!
When my friend offered to introduce us, I threatened years of shunning.
God, I'm a moron.
::sigh::
In all of this, there was ONE very cute moment where this precious boy from my freshman year of French class addressed me. I entered his circle of dude friends to say goodbye to one of my friends and the boy took my hand and shook it.
Him: Hi! I remember you! I KNOW we had a class together because I had a crush on you. You have the same face... and you had your hair down to here (puts hands down to his chest) and always wore it down. You were very shy and always doing your work. Don't wanna sound creepy or anything... but yeah.
Me: Haha. Yeah, I remember you too. It was French class. You sat behind me. You were very funny.
It warmed my heart to hear that... this boy was one of the very few to EVER be kind to me Freshman year of high school. I remember almost everyone who was mean to me... but every single person who ever showed the slightest sign of kindness to me I remember with a special light. This guy always clapped after my French presentations, and always smiled when I spoke-- no way will I forget that.
I hate admitting this, but overall, I enjoyed this reunion... even if I woke up the next day sad as a motherfucker and unwilling to participate in social activities... and that I cried a few times between the end of that night and now.
Once alcohol did some lubrication, we were all (for the most part) kind to one another and laughed quite a bit... I even drove one of my friends home-- one of the most uptight, straight-edge chicks of our class was a bit too wine-happy to drive.
We laughed the entire car ride to her home... where her angry husband waited after putting their two young daughters to bed.
My... time sure is wonky.
There are funny versions, dramatic versions... and I think there might be a horror flick up in there somewhere.
I finally became part of the population who can admit to attending such a thing-- a high school reunion.
I feel like my version of the reunion was a little bit of everything.
First, the preparation.
The day OF the reunion, I was running late due to the gym, a broken water pipe at home, and a very violent outburst from ANGRomalY.
So, thanks to this violent mishap, I was running late to the tailgate.
When Kelley and I finally showed up to school, to our not-so-surprise, we saw there was only a small table of our ex-classmates located in front of a food truck (overall, our graduating class was roughly 200 kids).
NONE spoke up to us. NONE.
No surprise there, either.
We walked around the school, feeling a horrible case of unexpected, unwelcome nostalgia... so we walked back out to the classmates.
I waved at one of the ex classmates, and he waved back.
Kelley and I stood by the trashcan, since Kelley's dude (our "group" was Kelley, her dude, another ex-schoolmate, and me) was eating his food (ordered from the food truck).
It was like we were living an episode of Freaks and Geeks... a 2013 episode. Cool kids sitting and mingling at a round table, us four geeks standing by the trashcan, observing.
After a couple of minutes of debating whether or not to go to the Homecoming football game going on in the distance, three of the "popular" girls approached us.
"I remember your name, you're Kelley. You (pointing at me), your face is familiar and I remember seeing you around at school, but I can't remember your name..." said the girl who finally decided to speak up. I remembered her FULL name... I had ONE class with her ever, and there I was, mentally repeating her name, but refusing to utter it.
The shortest girl sensed our uneasiness, and it was visible in her face-- she wanted to leave us alone... but the other two continued yapping away, wanting to introduce themselves (again, I remembered their full names, but acted as if I had NO fucking clue who they were). It was all so fake... SO SO fake. So fake, I felt SAD.
I stood there and listened to their life stories... fake smile plastered on my face as I debated how I should respond when my turn approached.
Cunt-y? Pretentious? Condescending? Curt? Sincere?
I went with sincere... then turned on the bitch-level when I heard their questions.
"So... when do you find the time to travel? You've managed to visit all these places while... on summer break? How do you get time off from work to see all these places?"
Me: I don't work and I travel whenever I feel like it.
No one else was getting questions... why the fuck was I?
I'm sure to anyone reading this it might seem uncalled for-- my behavior-- but see, you had to be there to get a feel for the air... to hear their tone... to see their faces. These girls were self-centered chicks... chicks who never gave a fuck about anyone who was not part of their tight-knit group. They didn't even smile at you if you weren't part of the group. How would people be admitted to their group? Be pretty, of course.
Anyway, once that weird exchange was over, we went ahead and, as a band, headed for the football game and our designated seats... my group of 4 being the ones at the back, of course.
We sat there for half the game... getting group photos taken and all that.
Once the cold became uncomfortable, we headed for the bar.
The bar was where things got super interesting. We all had name tags and seats... and warmth... and alcohol.
More photos were snapped and more mingling was done.
This is where the distinction was made in the chicks. Men, for the most part, looked good regardless of their life choices, but girls? It was blatantly obvious which girls were the nerdy/studious/good girls because we (yes, obviously I include myself here. I have anger issues, but I'm a good girl) were the younger looking broads. The hard-drinking/obsessively tanning/ heavy make-up wearing girls looked old or tired. But I shouldn't talk so much shit, because overall, we were a decent group of people who aged sort of well.
I looked around and felt like an out of place kid (I should have been keen to this earlier, since the lady who sold me my game ticket asked me if I was a kid... ME... a kid. Must be my perpetual look of confusion that made her ask this). Many guys and chicks were trying to hook up, or looked interested... I just looked scared or repulsed.
Then I saw my high school crush. World stopped. Heart moved to my esophagus for the rest of the night.
In high school, this guy had a beautiful face... and a cartoon voice. His smile would make me smile... and daydream. His eyes were big and bright. He was funny, but never by making fun of others. He wasn't very bright-- normal, I guess, and he was very, very short... and scrawny. I never spoke to the boy, though. Since we never shared a class, I had zero reason to speak to him... had to settle for watching him walk by during lunch... or by chance bumping into him in a hallway.
Now? He is beautiful. His voice is hot. His smile is still radiant AS FUCK. His eyes are a little sad now, however... which sucks. He has this scruff going on... and BOY! did that shit inspire sighs out of me! He's bulky... thick neck and thighs and broad shoulders and big hands... and damn! Just so beautiful.
Best of all: he's tall! Taller than me!
He's an engineer of some sort, so I guess he was smarter than the average bear.
As I was chatting up one of my best friends, she spotted him walking by and called him over.
I froze. I looked him straight in the eyes... and I froze.
What do I do when I sense I'll like a guy too much? I separate myself... I run away.
And I did just that. I let my friend walk over to him alone, and I took a seat ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM, like the total fucking idiot that I am.
I held eye-contact with him three more times throughout the night... and he would often be near me... but I never worked the nerve to SMILE or introduce myself. I just looked at him like a fucking deer caught in headlights... suffering weird, panic-driven thoughts. Fuck fuck fuck! He's so gorgeous... fuck fuck fuck... I'm gonna puke! Is he behind me?! WHY is he behind me! Get away, get away, get away! God... he's so gorgeous. Goddamn it, I should have dressed up!
When my friend offered to introduce us, I threatened years of shunning.
God, I'm a moron.
::sigh::
In all of this, there was ONE very cute moment where this precious boy from my freshman year of French class addressed me. I entered his circle of dude friends to say goodbye to one of my friends and the boy took my hand and shook it.
Him: Hi! I remember you! I KNOW we had a class together because I had a crush on you. You have the same face... and you had your hair down to here (puts hands down to his chest) and always wore it down. You were very shy and always doing your work. Don't wanna sound creepy or anything... but yeah.
Me: Haha. Yeah, I remember you too. It was French class. You sat behind me. You were very funny.
It warmed my heart to hear that... this boy was one of the very few to EVER be kind to me Freshman year of high school. I remember almost everyone who was mean to me... but every single person who ever showed the slightest sign of kindness to me I remember with a special light. This guy always clapped after my French presentations, and always smiled when I spoke-- no way will I forget that.
I hate admitting this, but overall, I enjoyed this reunion... even if I woke up the next day sad as a motherfucker and unwilling to participate in social activities... and that I cried a few times between the end of that night and now.
Once alcohol did some lubrication, we were all (for the most part) kind to one another and laughed quite a bit... I even drove one of my friends home-- one of the most uptight, straight-edge chicks of our class was a bit too wine-happy to drive.
We laughed the entire car ride to her home... where her angry husband waited after putting their two young daughters to bed.
My... time sure is wonky.
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