I've always waxed lyrical about how ridiculous I thought it was that people would spend inordinate amounts of time digging up their elementary/junior high/high school classmates in the murky depths of social networking sites. My position was that if you aren't still in touch there's a reason for it, and why would you try to force a reconnection? I've fended off several requests of that nature in the last few years (and none too politely, I can tell you).
That is, until a few months ago. A friend from junior high and I have reconnected on facebook. I know, I know, shock horror, I'm a hypocrite, etc. However, this was a funny one. I don't remember much about that time in my life. Most of my memories are patchy at best, remembering a certain event or a general feeling about how things were at the age of fourteen. Nothing too fascinating on the whole.
My recollection of how things went with us back then is a smidge different than his. I remember that in fourth grade, my then-best-friend spat in my face one recess and I never spoke to her again. In ninth grade, she had a boyfriend (the friend in question), whom I promptly stole from her as a very effective form of revenge. Does that make me sad that I was still angry and disgusted over being spat upon (in the face, mind you) five years earlier? Probably. Did it make it any less satisfying? Not in the slightest. I'm a bitch, so sue me. *lol*
I confessed all of this to the guy in question a few days ago. He looked bemused and told me that all he remembers is that it took him a few days to, and I quote, "talk me into going out with him", and when I broke it off I spouted all the queasy-making cliches about how I had too much going on with my family to have a boyfriend, etc. Embarrassing? A little. I'd also forgotten that we were in choir together, which I find a little worrying given that I was extremely involved in that particular area of my life back then. I must be getting old.
The point of all this waffle was that even after fifteen years of having no communication whatsoever, we still have things in common. There's a connection there that I never would have imagined. We drove aimlessly around my home town in his new truck (which he only stalled three times...) and ended up at the batting cages (where he was repeatedly struck by fifty mile an hour pitches from the wonky machine) and talked absolute nonsense for hours. It was unhurried, indulgent laziness, and a good time was had by all. Well, by me at least. Nothing better than watching an old classmate get battered by flying baseballs.
So, perhaps I should give the whole old classmates malarkey another go, if only to add to my mental pictures of batting cage violence. Now if only I knew who was organising the next reunion...