Awkward High School Reunion Parties

I was blogsurfing, and came across this blog, which reminded me of a party I went to Friday night and failed to write about.  One I knew I shouldn’t have gone to.

 

Mainly due to the fact that I’m from Bumblefuck, New Jersey, I don’t really go to parties much while I’m at home.  In fact, I’ve been to all of four parties since school ended.  

 

1. A friend’s going away party the night before she flew off to Dubai for the next four weeks, and virtually the only party where I knew most people well enough to have a conversation that didn’t include my school or major.
2. A NYC Lesbian Pride Party the night before the gay parade.  A party for which a friend of mine was go-go dancing; that friend being the only person I knew, and therefore it resulting in being a horribly awkward experience where I latched onto her sister and her sister’s girlfriend the entire night.
3. A Fourth of July house party hosted by a friend of a friend which actually turned out to be reasonably enjoyable; think beer pong, weed, and Ratatat’s Bustelo.
4. The party last night.

 

On this night, my neighbor and childhood friend who I hadn’t seen in about a month called me and invited me to her friend’s birthday party.  It was an open party and I was so excited to hear from her that I rashly jumped at the invitation and met her and another friend at the house a half hour later.  It wasn’t until the three of us entered the backyard that it hit me (with a pretty stiff wrist) why I don’t go to parties in my hometown.

 

1. I didn’t know anyone in high school, so I definitely don’t remember anyone now.
2. A fair number of people from high school somehow remember me and therefore remember my complete disinterest in them.
3. The combination of 1 and 2 result in awkward five minute long intervals of me either alone or standing with someone with whom I feel comfortable enough to stand near but can’t find a topic that’ll last longer than two minutes.  This after the never-boring conversation where I tell people my school, major, and what it’s like living in LA.

 

My neighbor, the social butterfly, was not only the class VP, but she was prom queen.  So, she knew people.  Luckily I had fellow awkward friend number 1, and later found awkward friend number 2 to not only keep me company, but to marvel at how many times I had to ask if someone graduated with us.  Then, to marvel at how many times the answer was yes.

 

After about an hour and a half of migrating close enough to the group as to not be definitively on the outskirts of the party and getting reasonably tipsy on Smirnoff and Pepsi, we called it a night (well, minus my neighbor, who spent the night at the house and had a grand time I’m sure).  As many regrettable feelings I have about that entire venture, I’m sure that at least once more this summer I will find myself in the exact same situation with perhaps slightly different faces (they could be all the same faces and I’m sure wouldn’t remember them a second time).  But it’s my last summer coming back home so I guess I might as well bask in all the joys it has to bring.

 

With Alotta Love,

 

zee zee cakes