I know some people are anxiously awaiting blackmail pictures from the reunion, but the truth is that I took three pictures and one didn’t come out. Ah, but the other two …
Oh wait. I’m ahead of myself. First, I spent a good deal of time begging a few people to show up. I was not about to go by myself – and I almost didn’t go at all. Then I took a happy pill and put on my big girl pants.
I walked in and headed straight for the bar, but before I got there, Leslie stepped in front of me. I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my whole life. Leslie was with Shreck (who was Shreck long before the movie. Too bad we didn’t think to call her that back then. And Shreck should have known that this would be her blog name, so don’t even whine to me). Shreck looks just the same. See?
First pic out of the way, but don’t relax Shreck. I have another. I’m not afraid to use it.
At one point, a very cute blonde ran up and threw her arms around me because she was just sooo happy to see me and I looked at Leslie over her shoulder and mouthed, “Who is this?” and she mouthed back “No idea!” It turned out I did know her – whew. I’d hate to be hugging cute strangers. Seriously.
When you sit around drinking beer, sooner or later you have to pee. I walked into the women’s room and the first thing I noticed is that the tampon machine is so high on the wall that if I had needed to, I couldn’t actually put a quarter in it even standing on my tiptoes. WTF? There was also a condom machine next to it, equally out of reach. I said philosophically, “Well, I guess I’m screwed, then.” Which of course prompted someone else to say “No you’re not!!” and sent us into a fit of girl-giggles. Some jokes never get old.
A very nice-looking man approached me and said hi to me. I said hello and he said, “You don’t know who I am, do you?” Man, I hate that, mostly because when someone says that, it’s true. I had the deer in the headlights look. (I wasn’t smart enough to take his picture last night, so I had to dig out my yearbook and cheat.)
He said, “I’m the one who got away.”
So I said, “Oh, I thought you looked familiar!”
When I admitted I still had no idea who he was, he told me his name. He also told me that in the 7th grade, I called him and asked him to go with me. He said, “I told you I’d have to ask my mom. My mom asked me what it meant and I said, ‘I don’t know, but I think I want to do it!’”
That’s when it clicked. I saw his 12 year old face and blurted out, “You were my first kiss!” He didn’t remember that, though. Thanks Danny. How could you forget the skating rink, under the coat hooks, with Top 40 music blaring and hundreds of hooligan kids running around? Thanks a lot.
A little while later, I saw him again.
Danny (who doesn’t remember our first kiss): You wanna go steady? My mom said it’s okay.
Me: Is it okay with your wife?
Danny (who doesn’t remember our first kiss): She doesn’t mind.
Me: I’ll have to ask my girlfriend.
That surprised him. Ha.
Me: Don’t worry, it’s not your fault.
Danny (who doesn’t remember our first kiss): Oh, thank God. I hope the kiss wasn’t that bad!
I had a lot of fun and got to see some old friends and probably made some new ones. Except Danny. He can kiss my ass. It’s not like he’d remember it afterward anyway.