If you’re like me, meaning growing up you were a weirdo, freak, oddball and outcast, then one of your least favorite things is a good old old-school get together.
You hated these people.
They tormented you.
You couldn’t wait to escape to a HBCU and reinvent yourself.
However, if your two best friends in the entire world are DJs and they’ve both moved to Atlanta – being Black of course, an at least one-time move to Atlanta is an actual rite of passage – and you haven’t seen either of them niggas in too long and they’re only coming back to the area to joint-DJ said get together, then you, like me currently, find yourself sitting behind the DJ stand hoping the clock will spin faster.
Now, don’t get wrong, I don’t hate everybody. I don’t, in fact, actually hate anybody.
But being one of those souls that didn’t peak in high school, I can’t simply glance around the room and see an entire “hit list” of bitches I’ve fucked.
In fact, this being Night Two of get together weekend, I haven’t seen one yet.
And while I didn’t exactly go 0-for my entire hometown, Kevin Durant I certainly my was not either.
My issue, I guess if I’m honest, is with my younger self.
This is also, I’m guessing, the major disconnect between people that enjoy reunions and those, like me, that hate them.
If the past represents you in your splendor, it makes perfect sense that you would not only cling to it, but use every fiber of your being and exercise every opportunity to revisit it.
If your best days are now or, as with most dreamers, you can’t help but eternally see them as being “ahead”, then grim reminders of the square you used to be – and are, stop lying to yourself – are never welcome.
Whoever you’ve presented to the world at large is undermined by a roomful of people that know better. And even if the girl looking vaguely around your head and face has never been further in her life from where she’s standing this very second than 30 miles, she can still probably remember something about you that you’d rather forget.
Is it any wonder that Jesus gave his “prophet is not without honor” speech while in his own hometown?
I’m actually surprised that more suicides don’t take place during these things because of their unique ability to make one feel either like despite all their best efforts they haven’t now nor will they ever escape a self they’d just as soon forget, or that while they can convince most of an entire world of one thing, there will always be at least one place on the planet that doesn’t buy it.
That’ll, in fact, never buy it.
The irony is, of course, that it’s only we freaks that usually go on to become the world’s great success stories.
If you were cool at home, chances are you stayed home and remained cool for as long as you could.
Still, this knowledge doesn’t spare you a moments suffering while you’re at a reunion being reminded of everything you wanted to forget.
One of my all-time aces just tapped me on the shoulder!
Haven’t seen that nigga in years!
He looks good too.