My girlfriend (one of the two I met that first esteem-crushing month of belittleing high school) informed me last night, as I walked along so innocently beside her enjoying the evening's beach air, that we have a 15 year class reunion being planned for next summer.
I said, (wailed), "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!"
Or maybe I just thought that.
One year. To get married, adopt two kids, buy a house, lose 10 lbs, become a professional body builder, finish my BS, and get a face lift and breast enhancement.
Holy crap, it's gonna be a busy year!
I told her to make me go- meaning, drag my kicking and screaming self all the way there and push me through the doors.
After all, the last time I saw these people we were nigh on 18- I'm hepped to see the bitches turned fat and greasy, the mean guys have supremely bratty children and marriage bellies.
And cavort with the rest of the people the aforementioned made cry.
Well, a little.
Truly it's a bit frightening and a little exciting to imagine finding out what everyone has done, how life has gone. Who has grey hair and kids- wait, the kids come first, then the grey hair, right?
What a time warp this might be.