On reunions …
This year is my ten-year high school reunion. I'm not going. Mostly because my best friends were either a couple years ahead of me or a year behind me, and those I've cared to stay in touch with — I have.
I saw a billboard for the new VW Jetta on my way home from work and the ad copy said "Just in time for your ten-year reunion."
I've never felt so much like a demographic.
Today at work I ran into someone I dated about four years ago. He's happily married and bald now. I have funkier hair than I used to and am happier with my singleness. I'm a lot more confident, too. He made a positive comment on my appearance, which struck me as funny because he never had anything to say about my apperance when we were going out. He asked about my love life. I said "It's non-existent." He said I gave him a funny look when he asked.
What did he expect? We went out for about eight months, he went off and got married, and then the first time I run into him, he asks after my love life?
I went back to my desk, giggling. It was rather funny. But overall, it was a rather affirming interaction. I remember being horribly self-conscious around this man four years ago. Today, I am someone I wouldn't have recognized then. I'm confident enough to celebrate that it's 100 days until the release of Half-Blood Prince like the true fangirl I am, I feel beautiful in my own body, and I am comfortable enough with the past to chuck an old whatever on the shoulder, smile, and ask how married life is treating him.
So, ten years after high school and four years after dating this guy, I still drive the same car. It's starting to rust, and I've put some significant money into its repair. There are green Mardi Gras beads on the rearview mirror from my friend Kevin, and Harry Potter sits on the dashboard. It's been driven by two boyfriends and one good friend (who broke the driver's side lock, now repaired).
I'm one of those twenty-somethings who drives an old sports car because I can't stand to give it up. I wouldn't trade it for a new Jetta for the world.
This year is my ten-year high school reunion. I'm not going. Mostly because my best friends were either a couple years ahead of me or a year behind me, and those I've cared to stay in touch with — I have.
I saw a billboard for the new VW Jetta on my way home from work and the ad copy said "Just in time for your ten-year reunion."
I've never felt so much like a demographic.
Today at work I ran into someone I dated about four years ago. He's happily married and bald now. I have funkier hair than I used to and am happier with my singleness. I'm a lot more confident, too. He made a positive comment on my appearance, which struck me as funny because he never had anything to say about my apperance when we were going out. He asked about my love life. I said "It's non-existent." He said I gave him a funny look when he asked.
What did he expect? We went out for about eight months, he went off and got married, and then the first time I run into him, he asks after my love life?
I went back to my desk, giggling. It was rather funny. But overall, it was a rather affirming interaction. I remember being horribly self-conscious around this man four years ago. Today, I am someone I wouldn't have recognized then. I'm confident enough to celebrate that it's 100 days until the release of Half-Blood Prince like the true fangirl I am, I feel beautiful in my own body, and I am comfortable enough with the past to chuck an old whatever on the shoulder, smile, and ask how married life is treating him.
So, ten years after high school and four years after dating this guy, I still drive the same car. It's starting to rust, and I've put some significant money into its repair. There are green Mardi Gras beads on the rearview mirror from my friend Kevin, and Harry Potter sits on the dashboard. It's been driven by two boyfriends and one good friend (who broke the driver's side lock, now repaired).
I'm one of those twenty-somethings who drives an old sports car because I can't stand to give it up. I wouldn't trade it for a new Jetta for the world.
1 Comments:
I love this. So, so true.
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