Sharon and Beth are planning our 30-year reunion. As they did for the 20th and 10th.
The three of us met in Miss Ashenbaugh’s class. Room 1 at White Oak School, in 1979.
I’d love to see them. And they said they’d love to see me when I posed a thought on Faceypages that I’d be thrilled to see half of the people who RSVP’d.
The other half went tRumper or plain old sucked as human beings. I still remember how I felt because of them. And I’m vocal enough to say you still appear to be an oxygen thief.
Several other people have messaged me, publicly and privately, to say the same thing. They have a friend or two they would love to reconnect with. But they want to avoid more people than they wish to see.
I saw some twit who used to pick fights with me on Facebook who says he’ll be there. He’s probably still mad that I called him a trumper. Then don’t fucking act like one and defend Kyle Rittenhouse, you freak.
I also spy she who will always be known as “Evel.” Her dad owned one of the local funeral homes till he died and Eve’s brother took charge. I felt sorry for the girl who lost her dad. We shared all our secrets. And she shared all mine — with some embellishments — to anyone who’d listen.
That included my friend group, which I’d introduced her to. And they all ended up shutting me out and planning a trip to Cancun together.
Eve being Eve, she hit the ceiling when my former bestie decided to reach out to me to finally end the war.
She backed out of the trip and they told me to come.
But unlike them, just because I lived in the rich ZIP code didn’t mean I could afford Cancun.
They didn’t need to know that. Or that I was very deeply hurt that we were too poor for, what, $300, after I had busted my ass to graduate 13th in my class.
But oh how delicious it was to say nah. I’m no replacement for Eve. It was always the other way around.
Eve wanted to be a psychiatrist. Figures, the nuts always go into the healing arts. Last I looked, she worked at Petsmart. And I haven’t looked in years, so who knows.
I know I wouldn’t see anyone else from that group. Last reunion, the girls contacted me to see where they all were since they are ghosts online. I had no clue and I’m happier that way.
If they did happen to show, well, I wouldn’t talk to them much anyway. I’d probably only talk to Beth and Sharon and the five other people I’m actually still friends with.
Even one who messaged me kind of rubs me wrong. We always sat together in class, thanks to the alphabet. Now he’s expressed interest in moving to Florida and finding love. I doubt that it’s with me but still, I can’t figure out why he’d tell me this.
The rest, would be cool to say hi to. I don’t see the people who always had something shitty to say about my clothes (which were cute, fuck you) and threw gum in my hair (oh look at all you bald fuckers now). I’d like to think that they are better people now. But I don’t have my hopes up.
Heck, I’d like to think that I’m a better person now. But it’s entirely possible I’d get a comeuppance there, too.
It might be that I don’t remember most of these people, but one of them could very well have a story about me, one that keeps THEM from wanting to attend.
That person should be Eve. But fuck her. She’s yet another victim-player who thinks that playing mind games and holding your reaction against you and lying to people about how that moment came to be is fun. And I don’t need to leave Florida to experience that.