Why I Walked Into My High School Reunion & Quickly Walked Right Back Out
vandervelden | Canva “You remember Kristen Neill?” Brian asked Shelley from our band class.
“What? Oh my God, you’re beautiful! I didn’t recognize you!” she screamed, literally scaring me.
Man, I must’ve really been a Shrek-like beast before.
It was 1995, and Brian, my best friend, asked me to be his date to his 10-year high school reunion
Sure thing, this will be fun. I had a lot of friends in his class, which was the graduating year before my own.
We went to the fancy hotel in downtown Fort Worth, where we mingled, ate, and drank while catching up with friends from a decade past. A few stood out, like Beth, who wasn’t just a surgeon but a neurosurgeon. (I work in a grocery store and hand old men cartons of Chesterfields and Pall Malls, so my customers are probably the reason she has a job.)
I also ran into a guy whom I’d met once at a house party who #metoo’d me in a bathroom when I was 14, before #metoo was a thing. I approached him.
“I know you. You’re David So-And-So”
“I am. Hi. How do you know me?” he replied, confused but intrigued by my tight red dress.
“We were at a house party once and ended up in a bathroom together,” I said.
He looked at me and tilted his head like a confused puppy.
“Okay, well, I hope I was a gentleman,” he snickered.
“No, actually, you kissed me, and you shoved your hands where they shouldn't have been. I had to push you away and get out of there, fast. Hardly a gentleman.” I said, then sipped my beer, never releasing eye contact.
The color left his face, and he started to stutter.
“Um, oh. Wow. I’m really sorry. I must’ve been drunk,” he bumbled and looked around.
“Must’ve been,” I smirked and smoothed my dress.
“Well, it was nice talking to you,” he said and quickly waved someone down and ran off. Yes, it was nice making you uncomfortably squirm in this tacky ballroom.
We decided to get out of there and go across the street to a bar with a handful of long-lost friends. We spent the night drinking and reminiscing, and catching up on who ended up married, pregnant, or dead: a successful night for all.
One year later, it was my turn for my high school reunion, class of 1986
Antonio Guillem / Shutterstock
I had friends, but the majority of the clique I ran around with had graduated the prior year. I preferred them over the kids in my class because many of them came from a different school and didn’t know my junior high persona. The nerd who tried so hard to fit in. The gawky girl who was bullied. They accepted me and made me feel welcome as I was. Still gawky, but with less history.
The first night of the high school reunion was at a bar. I went alone as my then-fiancé had to work. I wandered in and was greeted by a smiling popular girl who didn’t recognize me, but when I gave her my name, she pretended to screech in delight at my presence. (Stop your charade; you don’t remember me any more than that guy over there who went to MIT.)
I got a drink and wandered the room, looking at name tags and cringing. I stumbled on a gaggle of fellow band nerds, all male, who were also delighted with my presence, but I don’t think they were faking it. They remembered me a lot more than I remembered them. Something told me a few of them were still playing Atari 2600 in their mom’s basement.
As I continued to drift, I saw a guy I had a crush on in high school. He didn’t know I existed then, and after seeing how ten years had aged him, I was glad he wouldn’t know I existed now.
After a bit, I called my fiancé on my Nokia 2110 to let him know the reunion was lame and I was headed home
The next night was formal night. My fiancé and I cleaned ourselves up; I put on my MAC blue eyeshadow, purchased at Macy’s, and a sleeveless dress with giant white lapel collars. I looked good, or at least like a realtor at a wine and cheese meet-and-greet.
As we entered the hotel banquet room (why are they always in a hotel banquet room?), the welcome table contained a different set of Miss Congeniality recipients. They, too, had the same screeching, OH MY GAWD!, attitude as the previous night's Stepford wives. After being name-tagged, we were guided towards the event photographer, who tilted and angled us into the perfect pose for a middle-aged couple on a cheap cruise.
The lights quickly dimmed, and one of the mean — oops, popular girls —stood in a spotlight and broke into a crocodile tear-filled sad-sack speech about “The best years of our lives,” and how we’d “always look back on those years with fondness…”
"But without further ado…” a video montage of photos from my graduating year and subsequent events began.
I stood there feeling numb as I looked around the room and saw a few familiar but distant faces. People I’d known since 1980, when we’d moved to Texas. People who were mostly acquaintances rather than friends.
People whose names I knew, but didn’t know mine. People who bullied me. People who were fake, yet polite. People who shared space with me, but not closeness. People I’d forgotten but didn’t care about.
Why am I at this high school reunion anyway — what am I trying to prove?
Why did I spend my hard-earned money to come to a place that surrounds me with nothing but a reminder of the low self-esteem I carried around like an overweight backpack?
“Let’s go,” I said to my fiancé.
“Are you sure?” he replied, shocked.
“Yes, there’s nothing for me here,” I said as I placed my drink on a tackily decorated table.
As we walked to the car, I called Brian and asked him where he was. He gave me the name of the bar, and we headed there immediately.
When we arrived, there was a table of friends and acquaintances I recognized. Some close friends, others I’d met through friends of friends. Regardless, they were all real people. Genuine humans. No fakery, no drama, and no bullying. No tacky table decor, and not an ounce of screeching congeniality. I looked around the table as I sipped my beer and realized this was the high school reunion I was waiting for.
Kristen Crisp is the founder of Not Even Wine With Dinner. A community/mission for those looking for peer support with sobriety, self-esteem, mental health, aging, and all the things that come with being human. She is also a frequent writer on Medium under the handle @notevenwinewithdinner.
