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High School reunions put a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. Before the Internet, yes sure, there was some sort of significance. Quenching a burning curiosity and finally answering the late night question, ‘Whatever happened to…’ But now I can just Google you, so what’s the point? Here’s 5 points of why it’s a waste of time.
5 People Get Offended When You Don’t Remember Them
That blank stare as you feign recollection. The dead smile as you politely nod while quietly panicking. This bland person knows me, are they a fortuneteller? A medium? Am I punked? Then all of a sudden they’re on to you. After several minutes of conversation you are asked the dreaded question laced with sass, “You don’t remember me, do you?” Boom! Busted. I’m sorry that I can’t tell you were my 9th grade lab partner because you packed on 40lbs and grew 6 inches of beard. I’m not a detective.
4 I’m Just Not Accomplished Enough to Rub It in the Faces of My Enemies
It’s not that these enemies from a pubescent time can just Google me and know that I’m a loser. No, it’s that I have nothing of significance to boast about, making them sheepishly feel sick over the childish manipulation they put me through in our teens. A real slap in the face would be the kind of national or international notoriety that I could humbly smile behind and offer no explanation. That hasn’t happened yet, so I’m going to set my sights on the 20 year reunion.
3 I Just Don’t Care About Some of You
I’ve a lot people in my life and I don’t remember you. Between all the drunks I met in college and the various co-workers, neighbors, and local hotties, I just don’t have room in my brain for you. If you weren’t memorable the first time, what do you think has changed? You’ve seen enough sitcom reunion episodes to know it’s not going to work out between us, not ever. If I wanted you in my life we’d totally be Facebook messaging weekly, but clearly that’s not happening.
2 Facebook (Again)
Unlike Romy and Michelle, I’m on Facebook too. I can’t just make up some obscene lie and say I invented post-its. Actually, I wanted to say I was a champion pool hustler battling with my gambling addition that resulted from a checkered past as casino owner’s ex-wife. Seductive. But anyone with the internet knows the real me. I’m an unmarried, freelance “writer,” living paycheck to paycheck as a serial monogamist without even a hamster to care for, who yo-yo diets depending on her stress levels, but I live by the beach so… suck it.
I already know what most of the fools are up to that I shared four years of painful adolescence with. Why would I volunteer another night of my life to actually hearing about it? I much rather just creep through their photos from the comfort of my own couch. I get it, you got married (choosing a hideous dress I might add) and then got knocked up. Now you are drowning in diapers and drool and post affirmations of how proud you are of that. Also, I have scrolled though every picture ever taken of your child. I think we’re all caught up. I don’t need to spend a night of awkward hellos to know I don’t really care about what you’re doing now, that’s what my social network is for.
I have video chat now so I don’t see why we can’t all get on a Google Hangout and call it good? That way I can enjoy my own top shelf liquor without the 5-hour flight across the country and I can turn it off whenever I want just like every other bad reality show.