Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Dusting Off the Letter Jacket (Not Really)

I am officially old.

I knew this was coming. I knew it when my knees started to hurt after long runs. I knew it when gray hairs started to sprout like weeds in places that had once been a dark, golden brown. I knew it when my hair line began its slow withdrawal from my forehead. I knew it when, after playing a soccer game, I became sore the day after the day after the game. I knew it when my feet hurt, and my back hurt, and legs ached...for no reason. I knew it when I didn't want to sleep with every attractive girl I met. I knew it when I started to say things like, "Hey guys, it's almost ten. I have work tomorrow. Take it easy."

Mostly though, I knew it when I got an invitation this week to my ten year high school reunion. Ten years. It doesn't seem like it's been that long. Now, I know the trendy thing is to groan and roll my eyes and talk about how much I don't want to go and how ridiculous high school was and on and on and on. I have to confess though: I had fun in high school. Lots of fun. Big amounts of fun. I want to go to the reunion. I'm not saying I want to go back and do school all over again, but I am curious to see how people are doing...and what they look like (another confession). Who got fat? Who got hot? Who is married with ten kids? Who is wildly and deliriously successful? Who is half drunk and belligerent? Who do I wish I had know better? Who am I embarrassed to have held in high esteem?

So far, I have only spoken to a few people about their intentions to go to the reunion. Two of those people are ex-high school girlfriends who are now both married and trying to make babies. I can't help but think those interactions may be a little awkward.

"Honey, I want you to meet the guy I used to sleep with in high school!"

I'll also be going alone, which could make the preceding even more awkward and casts my reluctant aging in stark contrast with where I thought I'd be at this point in life. That's another entry I don't feel like wrapping my mind around at the moment....

Maybe I won't go? It did occur to me that I would have neither the time or the money to make a trip to Texas for a high school reunion unless the reunion was somehow magically scheduled for the same weekend I will be appearing in the wedding of a friend of mine. I'd just have to wait for the twenty year reunion. This would allow me time to settle and be well and truly on with my life before I had to meet any exes' husbands or worry about why I didn't quite feel like an adult yet. Well, you guessed it. The scheduling genie nailed that one. I really have no excuse.

Probably for the best. I'd be almost forty at a twenty year reunion. God knows what my "This is how I know I'm old" list would look like. More gray hair...everywhere? Sagging belly? Buick? Rampant conservatism? I'll go and feel awkward and physically old yet practically immature. Could be fun.


K said...

I'm sorry, but this whole situation -- high school reunion on the same weekend as a friend's wedding back in your old hometown -- has all the makings of a rom-com box office smash starring, like, Kate Hudson or Anne Hathaway as "the girl who got away" and, I don't know, John Cusack as you. Or is that too Grosse Pointe Blank? I hope not, because I really don't like Jeremy Piven. Except in PCU. But that's it.

Anywho, I'm sure you'll have fun. If it makes you feel any better, I've got my own reunion coming up in June which -- although I enjoyed the hell out of high school -- is promsing unearthly levels of suck.

Rachel said...

Weighing in, as I feel I must, on behalf of all high school malcontents and ne'er-do-wells (who am I kidding-- let's be honest and call it like it is-- invisibles), I have to say that ducking out on the ten-year is not without its perks. Consider the mystery factor. Or perhaps the I'm-still-in-my-20s-and-could-legitimately-be-doing-something-way-cooler-at-the-moment excuse. Neither applied to me, though. I was just too broke to make it from the West Coast (sigh, :::stretch:::) back to Texas, so I stalked the event online from its gratuitous MySpace page (lame sigh, lame stretch).

That may have been the most overly complicated comment I've ever left. Enjoy.