This coming weekend marks the second of three High School reunions that I will be missing.  Yeah, it’s a big one…the 20th.   My husband can’t believe I’m not making the homecoming voyage to see people I haven’t visited with in decades and get stupid drunk in the process.

Here’s the thing:  I went to two high schools and transferred to the last one my Senior Year.  It was a horrible year for the most part, filled with anger and resentment on my end by being displaced and uprooted so close to graduation. I had made a comfy spot for myself at my old school, had things going for me, and was beyond pissed to have to leave it all and start from scratch hundreds of miles away.

At my new school, I spent that first day or two eating lunch by myself on a bench outside, feeling like a social leper.  Day 3 provided a nice twist of fate when locker assignments were given out, and I was the only one that had to share…with a fellow transfer student that didn’t know anyone either. Laurie was like an angel, saving me from becoming an afternoon television special on teen depression. Towards the half of the year, I stumbled on those kooky theater folks and found a group of misfits to keep my company.  They were fun, supportive, easy to get along with, and they are the few with whom I still keep in contact.  Sadly, many of them probably won’t attend the reunion scheduled for later this summer.  Much like the anti-Project Graduation fete held by a friend (pledging the opposite of the wholesome school-sanctioned party at Sea World, several us got inebriated and passed out under coffee tables and on the lawn), a similar anti-reunion reunion was held 10 years ago.  I was already scheduled to ship out on a family cruise.  I hoped they might organize this again for the 20th, but it seems as if everyone is over it. 

So, the one this weekend?  It’s the class in which I spent three years of my high school experience.  Folks that I thought I’d be friends with forever, who would one day be college roommates, bridesmaids in my wedding, and godparents to my children.  I only kept in close touch with ONE friend from that school over the years, and in the past couple years we’ve lost touch, which makes me sad.  Sure, there are people it would be nice to reconnect with, and I’m more than curious to see how my high school crush turned out, what ever happened to the folks that stayed in town, and more importantly those that left.  But in all honesty, I don’t think anyone would remember me.  Since I didn’t officially walk the stage with these folks, I feel as if it’s not my place.  Somehow it doesn’t feel worth the cost of a plane ticket and the attempt to try to look my best for people I hardly know well anymore.

Romy and Michelle, I am not…

Still, a part of me is very jealous of my husband’s turn.  He excitedly looked forward to his 20th reunion, had a blast hanging out with people he knew way back when, and looks back fondly on that weekend.  I wish I could feel the same…