From Her Perspective

Okay, I get it.  I’m getting old.  I see kids who just turned 21 at the bars and I think they’re super annoying, even though I secretly still think I’m 19.  What?!  It was a totally fun year and I looked super hot in my black pants.  I grocery shop weekly, and often make dinner that doesn’t come out of a box.  I kick ass at Erotic Photo Hunt.  (Fine, I get that doesn’t exactly make me an adult, but I just wanted to brag about how good I am.  Sue me.)  It should be clear to all of you that I have left my days of frivolity behind.  I was just starting to feel comfortable with the idea that I am, in fact, a grown-up and that it is a good thing, when something came crashing into my world (more specifically, my Inbox) that threw all of these good feelings out the window.

“You are invited to the Class of 1997 Ten Year Reunion.”

I froze.  What?!  It cannot be ten years since I roamed the halls of my beloved (or tolerated, same difference) high school.  It’s impossible.  That was either a hundred years ago or five minutes ago, depending on what story I’m telling and how embarrassing it is.  I can’t put an actual timeframe as to when I was there, because that makes it real.   And worse, it’s not an actual invitation, but an Evite.  This means that I will continue to get updates until the whole thing actually happens.  I can’t crumple it up and throw it away, or pretend I didn’t get it.  I mean, the person who is planning it can see how many times I’ve checked it!  This is a nightmare.

Now, I know that a reunion isn’t exactly the most dramatic thing in the world, or the hugest deal.  I mean, people have actual, real important things going on in their lives, like buying houses, caring for sick relatives and getting tattoos.  But, I guess you should all know this now, and I want to say in advance that I was young and foolish and didn’t know the ramifications of what I was getting myself into.  Okay, deep breaths.  I did plays in high school.  Musicals, straight plays, you name it.  In the mid-nineties, I was all over the local newspapers dressed in ridiculous costumes and singing my awkward little heart out.  Now you know.  Hopefully this doesn’t make you think any less of me, as it was a very long time ago, but as you can see, drama runs deep within my soul and this is why I have to make a huge deal about this.

In high school, I was a geek.  I did not pluck my eyebrows, have a boyfriend, or drink.  I studied and had G-rated fun with my friends and wore overalls with zero irony.  I was happy, but you would never, ever have classified me as “cool.”  Of course, things have changed dramatically since then and everyone loves me and thinks I am awesome (right, RIGHT?!) but I am one hundred per cent positive that once I get back in the ring with the people I grew up with, my eyebrows will grow back full-force, I won’t be able to get a sentence out without stammering or turning bright red, and it’s very likely that I will once again acquire braces.  So, is it worth it?  Is the potential humiliation (and cash bar) enough to keep me away?  Or do I suck it up, surround myself with the three friends I have kept since high school, and have a good time?  If anything was harder than Sophie’s Choice, I think this would be it.  Even Sophie would have to agree.

Looking at the Evite, I observe the names of people I haven’t seen or thought about in years.  I hope they are doing well, of course, but do I really need to hang out with them?  I mean, I’ve had ten years to track them down and see what’s going on, and I haven’t.  People haven’t exactly been banging down my door, either.  So does this mean that everyone will ignore me, even though I’m not too jazzed about talking to them in the first place?

And here’s another consideration: do I bring my boyfriend?  Do I let him in on the horror show that was my teens?  I don’t know if he’d talk to me again, seeing as he was one of those all-star athletes who was always in the Globe, and he didn’t even live in Massachusetts!  What if my involvement in the German Club turns him off to me forever and I end up dying alone with a bunch of cats?  I hate cats!  This is a dire situation. 

Luckily, I have a month to hem and haw and make my decision.  Right now I’m leaning toward not going, as I think I would rather spend my Friday night hanging out with my actual friends, but who knows?  Could it be, gasp, fun?!  What do you think?  I welcome any and all advice, stories of your own reunions, etc. at Kati@BarstoolSports.com.   Thanks for your help and I will keep you posted.  Ha, this is like one of those choose your own adventure stories, except the outcome will inevitably be boring and unsatisfying.  Unless I end up in the back seat of the captain of the football team’s car.  I mean, I think we had a captain of the football team.  Couldn’t tell you who it was… anyway, hope you’re getting your Halloween costumes ready and I’ll see you soon!