Teenage Dirtbag

My 10-year high school reunion is next month.  It’s at a bar.  I don’t remember exactly where the bar is located, but I know it’s somewhere in the suburbs, which is not anywhere near the actual school.  I’m not going.  The basic explanation is that I already hang out with the people I want to know and everyone else is on Facebook.  If I really want to see photos of their kids, I’ll click on the million goddamn thumbnails of the same child in the same goddamn pose.

The girls organizing the reunion published a request for photos.  This is understandable, but then every person with the inability to let go of the past unloaded their photo stash.  How does that happen?  Maybe I just have a more minimalist lifestyle.  Moving across the country a few times will do that to a person.  I simply can’t imagine owning (and taking the time to scan) hundreds of photos from a time when I wish someone would have told me about my hair.

Plus I finally just started having fewer of the high school dreams.  You know the ones where you have to go to the class you’ve been skipping all semester and you can’t remember where it is, let alone what’s on your schedule or how to get into your locker?  Can’t say I miss those.

I also think it’s fairly…uhhmmm…pathetic?  To have a dozens-long comment thread with someone you haven’t dated since freshman year about why the two of you broke up.  I know how old crushes die hard, but really?  You think your 13-year-old self conducted an actual relationship, one worth rehashing in front of everyone on the entire Internet fifteen years later?

You do.  Huh.  I am an unsentimental bastard, aren’t I?

Well, sorry, but I guess I just don’t understand why everyone from my high school decided to name their daughter Isabella.

(Although I do enjoy the below photo posted by someone from my class.  I always knew my self-inflicted hair disaster and disinterest in makeup made me different from the other girls, but looking at this, I marvel at the fact that despite my facial expression, I was not smoking weed.)


(that other girl is Amanda.  She has four kids now.  Think about that if you are selfish and care about the elasticity of your vagina.)

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About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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