Reunion

Tomorrow is my 10 year high school reunion...at the Jersey Shore.  Didn't see that one coming!  It's an odd choice of location, though I suspect the organizers chose it as a party destination for the out-of-state crowd coming in for the occasion.  (I just realized I used three internal rhymes in that sentence.  Glad someone is feeling poetic today.)

I had some whacked dreams about the big 1-0 last night, which is strange because I haven't really given it much thought other than, "Great, I'm 7 months pregnant and won't be able to socially lubricate."   Helena Bonham Carter showed up in my dream, as did the glorious maze of Polly Pocket's mall compact which Rhett and I promptly became lost, then separated in.  Metaphor for conflicted feelings much?  Maybe I'm just nervous I won't know anyone's name and will promptly feel like a major assclown.  That's the pitfall of attending a massive high school when you're tracked with the AP crowd: you are the minority and life for everyone else goes on without your involvement.  It stands to reason that many people in attendance will be as blissfully unaware of my existence as I am of theirs and that's a direct byproduct of suburban sprawl.  Seriously, 600 kids in a class?  I think 300-400 is a good size. 

So back to Reunion:  It doesn't really bother me that the event will take place at a bar, per se, but once I looked up the venue I quickly learned that this is the meatiest of meat head bars famous for their signature wet t-shirt contests and all other manner of good old Dirty Jerz summertime traditions.  Google Bar Anticipation in Belmar.  I'm not making this up.  Fab-u-lous.  A certain segment of the population who graduated from Hillsborough High School is probably quite used to this type of entertainment but I probably couldn't name names even if I tried! 

From the RSVP list, I recognize perhaps 20 names of people I came into daily or at least weekly contact with during high school.  There are others who sound vaguely familiar either via sports announcements of Peer Mentor or some other club but my orbit of contacts has decreased with every year, it seems.  Thanks to my Facebook rule of "Would I invite you to my home?", I tend not to friend anyone I genuinely couldn't see myself hosting overnight.  Is that weird? 

Then there's the online stalking that unearthed the fact that many of my classmates are on their second or third kid - so my hard-won first at almost 28 is hardly news.  I'm practically AMA to these gals.  I never pegged Central NJ to be so Midwestern in its values but it looks like many of these matches are, in fact, high school sweethearts.  And some are on their second marriage - like a former theater pal of mine who was a lesbian, then married a high school boyfriend after becoming pregnant freshman year of college.  They went on to have one or two more children together (saw them in Lowe's once...cute girls) but now it seems she's remarried to another man?  I can't keep up!  Fast times at Suburban High...how do you even open that conversation?  "Congratulations on your remarriage?" 

Though I'm not feeling particularly nostalgic, possibly because most of my "brainy" AP friends don't go in for spirited communal events like this and won't be attending, I am looking forward to seeing the transformations or lack thereof.  Can't wait to see who has grown up the most and who has regressed in a big way.  Having lived away quite literally since graduation week when we moved to PA, I don't see a lot of Boro folk.  I have my three main contacts and maybe a handful of peripherals but only two of those folks will be going tomorrow.  My crowd was a bit "too cool for school" meaning that they are socially awkward masquerading as anti-establishment -- and I love them for it!  Just wish they could be there so I'd have someone to snicker with in a dark corner...

There's a lot of First Name, Middle Name use going around the facebook pages of female classmates which is confusing as hell when you don't even remember someone's last name to begin with so I don't know what to make of that anthropological discovery other than, yeah, you're from New Jersey.  I will get to see approximately three exes and I'm secretly delighted that my husband is ONE MILLION TIMES hotter, among other things.  Well, one is a commercial airline pilot which I admit is pretty cool but he was never a serious contender because Exhibit A: Senior Prom.  NOPE.  Not that I'm judging, or shallow, or bragging, but come on - who wouldn't love to Scarlett it up among former beaux if she can't at least have a glass of wine.  I'm also looking forward to seeing the spouses/SO's because that says a lot about someone.   

So here's to a new experience, baby on board and all.  When PB graduates from high school, I'll be 45...which makes me 55 at her 10 year reunion.  I wonder what wonderful things the future has in store for her and hope that Facebook is a moldy relic and that she never decides to go by her first and middle name in any official capacity.