My high school reunion is this Saturday. I almost forgot, but my best friend showed me a screenshot of a reminder she received on Facebook today. This reminder was for her to confirm whether she was or wasn’t attending, as she put “Maybe” on the invite. She then switched it to “Not Going” because instead, she’s going to celebrate her anniversary with her boyfriend. We’d talked about this reunion at length before. We felt the same way. Like her, I am not going to attend my high school reunion either. I don’t have a prior engagement or anything. I just don’t want to go.
The years 2001 through 2005 were probably the oddest period of my life. I was terribly awkward and never felt like I really fit in anywhere. I had millions of crushes that never amounted to anything (and in hindsight, thank goodness). I was basically the only black girl in a sea of white in my gifted and AP classes. Being the token was something I was aware of, as most of these friendships ended once the bell rang. I wasn’t invited to the parties or after school outings of my peers. Sitting in the cafeteria was the only time I got to be around a lot of black students, and even then I struggled to blend in. And of course, I had horrible acne, wore glasses and Chuck Taylor’s to match every outfit, and religiously flipped my hair. There really wasn’t a group of people like me—sardonic, slightly conscious, and smart—so I guess that’s how I associate my high school memories. No need to rehash that.
Don’t get me wrong. There are a few people (read: three) from high school that I talk to on a semi-regular basis. And you know, Facebook became popular during my senior year so I was able to keep up with a few acquaintances that way. But for the rest, which really consists of the majority of my classmates, I’m… okay. Spending $55 to make small talk for three hours with people that I haven’t so much as sent a Facebook birthday greeting to in ten years is just something I’ll have to pass on.
…but if there’s an ‘after-party’ of sorts, I might be game.