I'm Not Going And You Can't Make Me

At least, that was my intention.

Is there anything more freakout-inducing than an invitation to your 25th high school reunion? I mean, besides breast lumps or strange noises from the auto? If I'd just received an invitation in the mail, I could cheerfully drop it in the trash without a moment's hesitation, consideration and with no consternation. Working out my 'ations' today. I got one in the mail. And I've had no less than 3 personal entreaties to attend. Two by phone and one face to face. Make that three by phone. Face to face is hard to turn down. And I feel for her (the sweet girl who has called twice and cornered me at the county fair once). She's worked hard to pull this off. None of the other deadbeats in our class would do it, myself included. I "lost" the invitation in a masterful move of passive-aggression and miraculously found it after the deadline had passed. No worries, Sherry tells me - just see me at the picnic and pay for the events you want to go to. Argh. I went through high school behind an wall of invisibility. Why the fuck isn't it still working?


There are 2 or 3 people from that graduating class of 1981 I'd like to see again. It's the other 97 that I don't really give a damn about. I mean that in the nicest way possible. I wouldn't mind seeing them one at a time, bumping in to them at the grocery store or the fair or soccer or something. It's just hard to face all of them at once. Like getting on the damn bus again and trying to find somewhere to sit. After I talked with Sherry (again) this morning, I decided to go. I'm wavering again, but I'm pissed at myself for letting these people have this much power over me. I'm 43 years old. I should be over this shit.

I'll go.


If I can find something to wear.