My 15 year high school reunion is this coming weekend.
FUCK. When did I suddenly get old?
I swear it was just yesterday when I was going to college and getting bombed any night of the week was ok because I didn’t wake up the next morning with a huge hangover and have to write a blog tribute to my toilet. How did 15 years go by so fast?
Ahhh high school. The time of my life where I was so awkward, that the word awkward even picked on me.
I used to be short and scrawny. Quiet. Bookish. I was a pretty good musician so everyone knew who I was, but no one really knew me. I was an unknown. Nerdy and badly dressed with huge ass shiny gold rimmed glasses. The technical term that defined me was “bully bait.”
My senior year of high school, I was about 3 votes short of winning the award for “Most Unique.” Yeah, you know that award. “Most Unique” really stands for “Most-Likely-to-Get-Beaten-Up-By-a-Woman-in-a-Bar-Fight” (oh, wait, I won that one in college…)
Fortunately there was this guy named Dennis Moon who ended up edging me out, and hence is forever remembered as the weird guy in our yearbook. My singular remembrance of him is playing together on a soccer team and he wore a lavender sweat suit and a helmet.
I’ve grown up a bit since then.
I’ve filled out. I learned how to dress myself. I gained social skills and confidence. I’m in shape, have all of my hair, and have a really good job. My girlfriend is both smart AND hot. I’m also a blogger, and we all know that bloggers are the coolest people ever.
So you know what? I am going to own this reunion.
Because time has a way of evening up the playing field.
Those so-called popular kids are now balding and overweight. They still look back on their high school years as the best years of their life.
Painful, isn’t it?
When it comes right down to it, those old popular kids are no match for me now, just as back-in-the-day I was no match for them.
I’ve entertained thoughts of verbally gouging a whole long list of people who had wronged me in one way or another. It would be like fishing in a barrel. I could go back and make the whole school look like the idiots they are, and I would have fun doing it.
And then I had a realization.
If I go back to my reunion all bitter and angry with the purpose of showing people up…. I’d be no better than them, though I have a couple of pairs of vengeful underwear that would disagree.
The thing is, I don’t need to laugh at their crappyness to validate what I’ve done with my life. I’ve grown up and become successful on my own. I don’t need to shove their heads in a toilet and flush insult them to make myself look good.
Just showing up is going to be victory enough.
The GPS set, the course is plotted. Look out kids, I’ll be taking the high road in my return to Wedgieville.