Friday, Friday, Friday.
I love the weekend. Even though I am at the point where Friday night (and Saturday night) is not what it used to be. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the dullness of my life: I choose for it to be that way. I’m just not up for big nights at the bars anymore, or staying out really late and regretting it later. Every once in a while, absolutely. But I’m kind of a homebody these days.
Still, I love the potential of a Friday night. And the weekend is special: while I don’t mind just watching TV and staying in on a Saturday night, I do draw the line and doing something really mundane, like ironing or putting down shelf paper. But it’s Saturday night! I say to my husband, who claims that I want everything to be a celebration of sorts. I remember in high school, Friday night was just amazing. Right about this time, a little after four, I’d get home and start calling around, trying to figure out what our plans were. So much could happen in the hours between six and midnight: your whole world could change. And sometimes, it did. Really.
On the other hand, you couldn’t pay me enough money to go back to high school for real. I mean, sure, I love the highlights, but the day to day was HARD. I have enough issues I’m still writing about it, for God’s sakes. You do the math.
Speaking of which—high school, not math—last night I caught a few minutes of that new show High School Reunion, and honestly, it sort of freaked me out. I mean, who are these people that they’re willing to be made to feel a certain way just because they once felt that way, many years ago, when they were much different people? I’m thinking particularly of this one girl who was so upset because someone made her feel bad, and she was crying outside (with her beer with the label ripped off a detail which is just so high school to me) and saying that she felt just like she did then, how awful they made her feel, etc. And this other girl’s jealous because the popular girl got the guy she wanted, the same guy she wanted in high school, and all I could think is, God! Isn’t this the point of growing up! Can’t you see that you don’t have to BE that person anymore? So what if you were once the Chubby Cheerleader (and I’m not making this up, there is actually someone there with that moniker) years have passed, you’ve achieved a lot, get over it, be proud! Sheesh!!!!
Okay, so maybe I’m a little upset. But let me tell you: I still live in my hometown, so every freaking day has the potential to be a high school reunion. But when I see some guy I had a mad crush on in high school at the gas station, or the post office, I don’t immediately get all insecure and sad because back then he thought I was gangly or not as cute as my best friend or whatever. Why? Because HIGH SCHOOL IS OVER. So you have two options: you either wave and say hello, or pretend you don’t see them. But not because you’re traumatized. Because it’s just not even worth wasting time on.
I don’t know why I’m venting about this. I guess it’s been a long week.
I’ll try to end on an up note, to make up for all this venting. So I’m watching the show, and there’s the girl that’s obsessed with this guy, still, clearly reliving high school emotions even though they haven’t seen each other in years, and I turn to my husband and say, “God, can you imagine still being that in love with someone you were in love with in high school?”
Cut to me backpedaling, wildly: “I mean, someone you hadn’t SEEN in all that time, not someone you’d been with since then, like you and me….that’s different, of course.”
Which it is. Of course. But talk about putting your foot in your mouth. Sheesh.
Anyway, so now it’s Friday. Maybe I’ll try to do something special. Or maybe, I’ll just sit on the couch and enjoy the fact that I don’t have to. Either way, there’s potential. And you gotta love that.
have a good weekend, everyone…..