Yesterday, I visited with some close high school friends, that I haven't seen in a while. I get to see my good buddy Adam about once a year (maybe) since he moved to California to become rich and famous. Or maybe just to get a job playing video games. Who knows. We visited a mutual friend, who has young monkeys now as well. It's surreal to see everybody as a grown up.
They are trying to get me to attend the ten year high school reunion later this year. I've never been one for school spirit. I think probably because everything required money and I wasn't motivated enough to try and get some. I'm actually not in the yearbook because I didn't want to bother with the annoyance of having to pay for a senior photo. Among other things. There are some people I would like to see again. Maybe. But for the same reasons I wouldn't show up I'm not sure they would either. I'm still vacillating on the idea. It's also relatively expensive for a weekend of possibly utter boredom. It's not even an excuse to get away on a vacation since it's local.
I did make an impression, however, that may make it slightly confusing for anyone who knew me back then. So I'll probably have to walk around with a sign and prepared statement to hand out. Hmmmm, I suppose I should explain a bit. I was engaged once, before my wife, in my senior year to my high school sweetheart. It was quite a public proposal in fact and I went over-the-top-romantic in pulling it off (Yeah, I suck). It was all good and then the shell shock of living outside my rabbit's den hit me. We went to colleges at an unacceptable distance from each other and, by no fault of hers, everything fell apart. It ended amicably (at least I think it did, you'd think a guy would learn...). We still talk every now and then. After that, I over-stressed, broke down, dropped out, wandered home, weaved in and out of limbo, and reemerged as a human being again to marry someone who as it turned out went to our high school but not the individual anyone had expected.
Of the friends I've told now about recent happenings, some have responded with "Well it's about frickin' time!" and some with "Really? Ah, well that makes sense now..." I question the perception that if it was so painfully obvious before why the hell didn't anyone dare to ask me if I was, in fact, gay? Not even a teasing accusation, but then who knows what the stabbing pain in my back was all about. Only once did my dad venture to try, who was the absolute wrong person to get me to admit anything, and his request was out of a fit of lonely paranoia. I'm positive it drove me further into the closet. He even asked my wife if my sole intention of getting hitched was just an escape route from his house. Guess I threw more than a few kinks in some theories when I was actually genuinely happy to get married. Confused yet? I sure was.