I've told this story before, but I'll say it a differen way here: When I went to my 20th high school reunion, I took my life partner around to everyone, and I do mean everyone, including the guys who I thought (based on their behavior in high school) might freak out a bit.
Almost everyone was polite and civil, and many were even friendly, with one glaring exception: a Black woman whom I'd met in kindergarten--I'd found her to be funny and charming and interesting, and then she grew odder as the pressures of being her family's only breadwinner while she was still a high school student (and "fitting in" to conservative religious Black culture in my small town, where "what church do you go to" is the second question after "who's your momma and daddy") began to get to her. Finally, she "found Jesus" and gave up her rather good job as a keen, college-educated, well-read sportswriter with a gift for language in order to be a choir director who now writes somewhat vapid and poorly organized essays about religious topics for her church newsletter. It's a sad comedown, intellectually speaking.
She also has gained about 60-80 pounds and no longer has the high tight ass that once or twice made me rethink my percentages. And that's a sad
physical comedown. I mean, hell, I'm 70 pounds heavier than I was in high school, but damn, I'm sexy! (Well, most days.)
She wore a cheap pastel-colored chenille lounge-pants-and-jacket set to the reunion--something that looked as though she'd stolen it from her mother's closet back in the late 1970s or early 1980s and then slept in it for about a decade or so--and
didn't shake my man's hand. She was the only person who displayed any prejudice whatsoever, which was really strange for me, because she's one of only a
tiny handful of high school classmates who'd ever been to my home, growing up (my family was embarrassingly dysfunctional and therefore we brothers were highly selective about who we invited to our home). My man and I talked about it afterward, and he said, "She seemed so sad and crazy, so I wasn't offended. In fact, I felt sorry for her." And that just about sums it up for me. I wish in some ways that she and I were still friends, because I've known her for so long, but the handwriting was on the wall when she "got religion" of a particularly homophobic kind.
Interestingly, most of the others were very welcoming toward my man--asking him about his accent, making him tell the story of how we met, inviting him to dance (well, the women), etc. And my male friends and acquaintances who were in the marching band, on the soccer team, and in my classes didn't sit and stare at the two of us, the wheels obviously turning in their heads as they imagined us having sex. Oh, and no one asked the stupid question, "Who's the man?" (I was prepared with a snappy answer to that one, let me tell you! :tongue
So for me, many of my high school friends and acquaintances grew up, as I (hope I) (like to think I) did. And now we relate to each other in different ways--and I now feel freer, and more confident, and more secure in knowing them and them knowing me (as I have my whole life) than I ever thought I'd feel. I'm even looking forward to my 25th high school reunion, scheduled for this October.
NCbear (who's sometimes a rather good imitation of a garrulous old geezer, apparently
:smile