A La Recherche Du Temps Dorky

I got a call out of the blue last evening from a gal I knew in high school, but with whom I have not spoken in 21 years. Our 25th reunion is later this month and she was checking up to see if I might be interested in attending.

Yikes.

"Zoom! What was that? That was your life, mate. Oh, that was quick. Do I get another? Sorry, mate." ***

Actually, I loathed high school. I was, as they say, a late bloomer (indeed, there are those who are of the opinion that I am still a work in progress), and never really fit into any of the social cliques at school (the band geeks, the jocks, etc.). Instead, I was one of those odds & sods who orbited about the fringes and as a result, generally had a pretty lonely time of it. And when I did get close to somebody, I usually managed to make a hash of it. (Indeed, when I say that I knew this gal, I am over-simplifying our relationship greatly.)

Ah, well. Water under the bridge and all that. I eventually grew up and turned out more or less normal after all. (Mom: See? What did I always say? Such a nice boy! Who wouldn't love this boy?)

So anyhoo, we chatted for a while. I haven't kept up with a single other soul from those days and she filled me in on what some of them were up to. I had had absolutely no intention whatsoever of going to the reunion (apart from anything else, starting next week I am going to be out of town on bidness more or less until the Fourth of July), but after our chat I have to admit that I was beginning to be mildly intrigued.

Perhaps I'll make it to the 30th.

*** Spot the quote.

UPDATE: Quote fixed, so don't send any cranky emails.