I am about to mark the 20th anniversary of my last day in hell, or high school as most of you called it. Those were four torturous years for me. Not a cheerleader, not a jock, not a brain, nothing but, well let's not get into all of that.
Friends have said they went to their reunions and "it was such a blast". I can not imagine seeing people that didn't speak to me 20 years ago, some of whom hated me, being a pleasant experience. It sounds more like a bad movie plot in my head where I end up covered in pig blood.
Someone said to me the other day, "Well if you decide to go, don't take your husband. I took mine and it was such a mistake. He had a horrible time." If they only knew my husband. He would probably have a better time than I would.
My husband is one of those saying like, He can have fun in cardboard box, or He could come out of the closet with a friend. OK that last one had a totally different meaning when I was growing up, but then so did the word - Gay.
I really can not imagine going to the reunion at all but taking my husband would be a mistake, I can just see it now. My husband strikes up a conversation and finds and A. runner B. mountain biker C. someone he knows. (Yes, I know that he grew up in Greece, but he knows someone literally everywhere he goes.) They are having an in depth conversation and I'm stuck with someone like Chrissy Donovan. AH!
In a perfect world we would all be past those petty days of high school when being cool, being "in", and having the latest jeans where the only thing that mattered. My fear is that while most of us move on, some never will, that's why they organize a 20 year Class Reunion. Have fun ya'll.
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