reunion

I went to a reunion recently. I mentioned a few posts ago that I spent a significant part of my childhood in a sandbox. I'm extending childhood into early adolescence, mind you.

Adolescence almost always involves awkward moments with crushes. I was twelve when I saw a pair of sparkling eyes that rendered me speechless and immobile for a full five seconds. Speechless and immobile. Can you imagine what was going through my head during those five seconds? I heard angels singing, the wall behind him turned into clouds and a brilliant light showered his fine features. (I know. Our Lady of Guadalupe.)

Anyway, this guy was my first serious crush. There was no unique friendship to speak of, just a really serious crush that consumed me well into high school. And it's not like I saw him everyday. I saw him exactly twice after that, before i turned 14.

Fast forward from the party to sixteen years later, to the big reunion. I put on makeup, my Samantha Jones outfit, and memorized my I-invented-post-its lines. My mantra that night was, don't faint, don't faint, don't trip, don't trip.

And there he was, just as I remembered him. He hasn't changed. Not one bit. Not even his height. I know I grew maybe five or six inches since we last saw each other. He didn't.

And you know what else? He totally ignored me. Dead-ma.

So there, I ended up ignoring him as well, not without (drunken) comments to my small circle of friends about his height.

The reunion may not have turned out as I planned it to (read: the guy flirting with me and a quick romp at the back seat of his car) but hell, it was even better. I was fully made up, in my Samantha Jones outfit, impressing old friends with my I-invented-post-its lines, guzzling beer after beer and reminiscing old times, when we were all young, awkward, and momentarily speechless and immobile.