10 Years...

So my 10 year high school reunion is fast approaching.

A reunion basically takes all of those people that you've chosen not to see for the last 10 years and jams them all into one room. Why then, would you enter that room? That is the question I find myself trying to answer.

The most common reason to go to a reunion (at least according to the movies) is to show off what a success you've become. As an unemployed aspiring screenwriter who's blogging at 3:15 in the a.m. I don't think I fall into that category. Nor do I have a lost love that I haven't seen in a decade and with whom I'm desperate to reconnect/drug and rape.

Though not particularly popular, I wouldn't consider myself a nerd in high school (I wasn't smart enough), and so I don't feel like I have to go back and exact revenge on any abusers. Nor would I expect any revenge to be visited onto me. The meanest thing I think I did in high school was stuff scallopped potatoes down the back of classmate's shirt. Admittedly, that was a douchebag move. But I don't think my victim will be waiting for me with a rifle. And if he is, well, I guess I owe him a drink.

I certainly was not attractive in high school, so maybe I should go back to show all the ladies what a stud I've become. After all, I did, finally, at the age of 25, and at the behest of my wife, start plucking my unibrow...

So why attend? One of my best friends from high school tells me that the best part of the reunion will be talking about it afterwards. I immediately agreed to meet him afterwards and discuss it. No deal, he said. Apparently, I'd have nothing to discuss if I wasn't there to see it. What the "it" is that he's talking about escapes me.

Certainly my social skills are at an all time high, as I can whip out conversation starters like:

• "Who's on your fantasy team?"
• "Ever spent a night in prison?"
• "Does your ear wax smell like your feet?"
• "Would you like some candy?"
• "Why are you walking away from me?"

All trademark Parsons classics.

My idea to go back with a fake male lover was immediately squashed by both my proposed cohort and my loving wife, who may have felt slightly offended.

Are there any people I want to see? Not really. I already see the ones I want to remain in contact with. Do any of my fellow Pingry School Class of 1997 graduates want to see me? Undoubtedly, no. I get the feeling I was not well liked by most of my classmates. I got this feeling from a friend of mine who recently told me "you were not well liked by our classmates."

I didn't really accomplish very much in high school. I was a member of the soccer and tennis teams, won the inaugural school-wide team handball tournament and was a prominent member of The Simpsons Fan Club. Reading that over and looking back, it's a real miracle that I didn't hang myself. Probably still is. Girls didn't talk to me and I didn't talk to them. This fact was even noted by my mother, who at a PTA event, took to introducing herself as "Meredith Parsons. You probably don't know my son. He's not very popular with the girls."

Am I embarassed or ashamed about who I am? Not now, but certainly who I was. The introverted weird kid with bad skin who was always playing ping pong and yelling at his small Indian friend. For awhile I truly feared that would be my tombstone. Now at least we can add "might be gay," "permanently sterile," "has herpes," and "probably gay."

So maybe that's my hesitation. I don't like who I was and I'll be walking into a room full of people who only know me as that person. That's kind of scary actually. But I'd like to think that after 10 years, people forget, or stop caring. I certainly wouldn't look at a former classmate and assume that he is still the same person he was in 1997. Although that guy in our class who fucked the hole in a couch and was always whipping out his cock in public is definitely still the same person.

So why go? Is the $50 open bar enough to lure me? I guess I'll find out.