Bottle It Up

I’ve been slowly working my way up to joining my high school reunion Web site. I declined to be on the planning committee, citing work commitments, and never went through all of the people who joined the site. Facebook and MySpace were enough for me, thankyouverymuch.

But then I was talking with one of my friends about her high school reunion, which is next month. (Mine is this fall.) She’s beautiful and thin and married and successful. So I was taken aback when she announced that she was worried about her reunion. Because I – single and not so thin – am worried about mine because I am one of about 10 singles, it seems. Hell, I’m in the minority for not having kids. I’m sure it will be better than I expect, especially if I can get my Gay Boyfriend (who went to our brother school) to be my date.

How could you be worried about your reunion? I asked my friend. You’re insane – you have a fabulous life.

Um, hello, you’re successful and you’re worried about your reunion.

She made a very good point. The problem with high school reunions is that you’ll always be who you were at the end of senior year – everyone remembers who you dated or didn’t date or wanted to date or who was a brain or who was average or who so-and-so said did whatever with four guys that one night. The girl who was pregnant at graduation will always be That Girl Who Graduated Pregnant. We pretend to be mature as adults, but being around women from my high school turns me into an awkward 16 year old. Add drinks and it only gets worse. My point is, if you judged me by high school, I am just the third wheel, tagging behind my friends with their older boyfriends in college who bought us alcohol.

This Fall is going to be hard on me. Best Friend Ever is having a baby, College Roommate is getting married, my younger brother is getting married – all within a month or so of each other. Call me melodramatic, but if you need me I’ll be sneaking a cigarette out back. So parading around in a cocktail dress with girls from high school and their husbands and baby pictures is enough to drive me to get a cat and start knitting or something.

But for some reason, hearing from my girlfriend whose perfect life I envied because she wouldn’t have to show up dateless at her high school reunion and realizing that she was annoyed about hers because everyone would want to know why she didn’t have a kid got me thinking. In the contest of Who has the best life everyone has a shortcoming in their own mind. My friend doesn’t have kids. I don’t have a husband. Someone else doesn’t have the job she wants.

I’m more than the Third Wheel. So much more. I’m witty and successful and intelligent and, yes, maybe even a touch charming at time. Even though I don’t always believe it or act like it, I am. (Note to self: Still go to the gym.)

So I joined the reunion site and uploaded a photo and winced as I went through the profiles – so many moms, so many marrieds, so few singles.

I better book my Gay Boyfriend early before one of the three other single ladies snaps him up.