I’m sure many people look forward to their 10 year high school reunion. I was not one of them. I had no ex-boyfriends to wow, no vendettas, no recent gastric bypass surgery to flaunt, nada. The truth was I couldn’t even remember half of the people in my graduating class and I hadn’t even started drinking heavily yet.
Being that I was never ‘popular’ nor very extraverted in high school, I spent most of my time trying to avoid talking to classmates outside of my small group of friends, a series of slightly awkward group of girls from band that were known to keep a spare flag or two in their locker.
Unfortunately this 10 year reunion thing snuck up on me. Although I had recently moved to California, I happened to be back in town just in time for it. I was an avid fan of the movie Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion and happened to have a good friend from high school much like Lisa Kudrow’s character Michele. It was already an unspoken decision between the both of us that we were going.
Unfortunately, this event forced me to look back and evaluate my twenties. I was beginning to wonder what the hell I had been doing for the past 10 years. I had no husband, no children, and was currently ‘in-between jobs’ for the 3rd time since I had graduated from college. I still did not know what I wanted to be when I grew up.
So when asked the standard reunion question, “What have you been doing for the past 10 years?” I drew a big fat blank. I considered concocting some kind of outrageous life story just so I would have something to say, perhaps that I had invented post-its.
Not only did I have nothing interesting to say about the past 10 years of my life, I didn’t care to hear what my fellow classmates had been doing for the past 10 years either. Unless they happened to be Stephen Dorff’s personal assistant, their lives were of no interest to me. Most of them were engaged or married and had already popped out a few kids.
Kendra and I were on the same page about this. We thought anyone who had a so-called ‘family’ was missing out on the awesomeness that independence granted. We had already decided if someone was to come up and talk to us about this specific topic, we would yawn loudly and then rudely interrupt them by saying “Booooorrrriiiiinnnnggg!”
On our way to the reunion, Kendra went through the invitees on her iPhone so we could familiarize ourselves with these people. She had a specific way of doing this in which she would read the person’s name, followed by brief remark about that person, which went something like this, “Aubrey, bitch.” Or “Jessica, slut.” In fact most of these names were followed by some sort of derogatory comment. After going down the list, Kendra realized there was really only one person she cared about seeing. “Why are we going to this thing again?” she asked.
Before we arrived at our reunion, shots were ordered at a seedy underground bar. We considered ditching the reunion to go sing some karaoke instead but another shot of Jack seemed to ease the tension. I couldn’t wait to see a bunch of people who probably wouldn’t remember who I was.
We arrived at the reunion not nearly as sloshed as we had hoped and was immediately greeted by the coordinator. “Kendra!” the coordinator exclaimed, hugging her with enough space between them to fit another person. She stared at me blankly and forced a smile. “Oh, hey yooooouuuu,” she said patting me on the shoulder.
Our reunion was a half assed attempt at best from a class who wanted to make their graduating song Pink Floyd’s We Don’t Need No Education, for which the Principle quickly vetoed. There was no D.J., no dancing, just a couple of balloons, and a lone yearbook thrown on a table. Kendra and I forked over the 20 dollar entry fee, which included cold, half eaten appetizers and two free drink vouchers that we never received.
Luckily, the one person Kendra wanted to see arrived before us, and thanks to her and her husband’s hospitality, supplied Kendra and I with an unlimited supply of red headed sluts for the duration of the evening. And surveying the room, we realized these shots would probably be the only highlight of the night. Everyone hung out in the same cliques they used to hang out in high school, no one was intermingling. It felt like we were back in high school except now everyone was older and beginning to sport a middle aged spread, talk about “BOOOORRRRIIINNNGG!”
“Who’s that guy?” I asked referring to a bearded gentleman standing in the lounge, chatting with another, shorter bearded gentlemen. Normally I don’t go for the lumberjack look but this guy wasn’t too bad looking. Or perhaps the red headed sluts were kicking in.
“I’m not sure,” said the only person Kendra cared about seeing. “I asked him earlier if he was the one who always got in trouble.”
“Well was he?” I said intrigued.
“Nope, wasn’t him.”
I knew this was the perfect opportunity to fuck with him. After another round of red headed sluts and a plate of dry crusty nachos, I caught L. Jack coming out of the bathroom.
“Hey!” I said standing in his way. “Weren’t you the guy who always got in trouble back in high school?”
“No!” he said grinning widely. “I just played soccer.” This still wasn’t ringing a bell for me.
He stared at me calculating my features, “You didn’t go to school with us!”
“Yes I did!” I insisted.
“There’s no way!” This argument went back in forth like this for a good twenty minutes.
“Oh don’t listen to him!” A big breasted girl holding a glass of Jagermeister butted in. “He’s just saying that because he thinks you’re hot!”
By this point L. Jack had walked off to have drinks with his friends and suddenly I found myself surrounded by Ms. Jagermeister and her A-list friends.
“So, what have you been doing for the past 10 years?” one of the A-listers asked me, not because she cared but only because the air was aching to be filled with lame conversation. Not once did this girl ever talk to me in high school. Thankfully we were interrupted before I could answer.
“Drinks at the Sundown!” the only person Kendra wanted to see yelled, as she worked her way through the crowd and quickly out the door.
“So what are you girls doing after the reunion?” I asked trying desperately to avoid any further questions.
“We’re grabbing drinks.” Ms. A-list said trying to be as vague as possible.
“Well you should call me to let me know where and maybe we could meet up,” I said.
I had absolutely no interest in hanging out with this chick, all I knew was that she was friends with L. Jack, whom I considered to be the only semi-interesting one there and thus worth drunkenly making out with later on. She unenthusiastically punched my number in her phone and pretended to save it.
“Let’s get out of her,” Kendra said pulling on my jacket.
As we left Jagermiester yelled out to Kendra, “Call me!”
“Did you know that girl?” I asked Kendra as we bee-lined out the door to safety.
“No.” she said.
“Wow! That blew,” I said as we got into the car. “I don’t think I’ll be going to our 15th.”
It looked as if I had blocked out memories from high school for good reason. I don’t understand why some people say high school was the best years of their life. People like that depress me. I still believe my best years are to come.