Gads. Hypocrite High must be gearing up for another one of
picnics." I got another stupid request to "let your classmates
know what you have been up to since high school!"
As if Hypocrite High reeeeeeeally cares.
Lucky for me, they don't have any of my current contact information.
But unlucky for Gram, they use her address for me, so she
gets the slews of envelopes for me, and passes them on when
I visit, sure they must be "important." Usually, it's the
multi-annual Groveling for Donations, because, while I certainly
wasn't good enough for the administration when I attended
the stupid school, they sure wouldn't discriminate against
any money I want to send them.
I suppose ol' HHS could've been worse. It was super, super
small; no shittin', I was one of a graduating class of 28
people. This meant that lame folks like me could be on the
cheerleading squad (could be captain, no less!) and on ASB
and the school paper, because there was zero competition there.
But it was all super-Christian, and the administration was
money-hungry and, well, hypocritical. When I started HHS in
9th grade, I was a good lil' Bible Study gal, sweet, traditional,
eager to be part of a loving, Christ-like environment. By
the time I graduated, I was a cynical, disenchanted, organized-religion-loathing
misanthrope with strong feminist leanings.
Last time I responded to one of these questionnaires was
about five years ago. I fired off some quick, slightly snarky
responses, sent my regrets for the alumni activities (because
there aren't enough members in any one class to have a reunion,
so all 150 people who graduated HHS in their 20 year history
get together at some picnic. Yeah.), and forgot about it.
Well, until the emails from classmates trickled in wanting
to know, almost exclusively, "SO DO YOU HAVE KIDS LOL???????!!!!!!"
(because HHS graduated very few… ah… non-traditional women,
I've discovered, and most of the girls I went to school with
married very quickly after high school and stuck to traditional
jobs, if they worked at all). And I got a bunch of forwarded
emails about "OMG did you know john michael montgomerys song
"the little girl" is based on a true story????!!!!!" or "THIS
IS FOR REAL!!!! Microsoft will pay you for every person that
you forward this e-mail to!!!!!"
Which, I might add, is a brilliant reflection on the quality
of a HHS education.
So I'm not going to deal with the Idiocy again. I'm not going
through with the futility of even sending them my answers,
because then I'll just get Round Two of the same old dumb
e-mails: "Did you ever marry [DumbAss]?? Do you have any kids???"
Gross. No way! To heck with Hypocrite High! To heck with these
stupid questionnaires and reunions which're all about people
trying to prove
something or another to long-lost peers. (Can you believe
some of these Reunion Questionnaires actually ask "How much
money do you make a year?" and "What kind of car do you drive?"
What the hell?! No pun intended, of course.) No thank you.
They can keep my outdated info and think I still live in NY!
But you guys? You all get the pure, unadulterated vitriol.
Name: Dwanollah MyLastName-TheHusband-TypeMan'sLastName.
Yes, I hyphenated my last name. No, it's NOT that weird. No,
don't call me "Mrs." And I'm not impressed when you tell me
that "I'm now Mrs. John Smith!!!!" either.
Occupation: English professor @ lame-ass barely-accredited
college, author of several critical articles and a yet-unfinished
(but getting there) tome on Künstlerroman
issues in girls' literature (which is a subject that interest
me and, like, six other people), and, at last, perpetual student
finally accepted to a solid Ph.D. program. No, I'm not a (pick
one) day-care provider, RN, elementary-school teacher, or
office manager. I think, like, all but 5 women who graduated
from HHS went on to a traditional woman's job…I reiterate,
if they went on to a job at all.
Spouse's name, age and occupation: The Husband-Type
Man MyLastName-TheHusband-TypeMan'sLastName, but he uses his
maiden name in business. We're both 33. He's a computer geek/business
stud, who went from being his company's software designer
to their vice president. He's smart, and a really brilliant
manager. Plus he's cute as hell. He has a crooked nose, and
he's very ticklish. He also has freckles on his shoulders,
and plays with his lower lip when he reads. Wait, no one but
me is interested in that last stuff, huh?
Names and Ages of Children: Why is it that's the ONLY
THING ANYONE EVER WANTS TO KNOW?! Seriously, the half-dozen
people that actually sent me non-forwarded e-mails seemed
incapable of talking about anything else. "Do you have kids
yet??? I have to [sic] beautiful daughters Meghan Michelle
(3) and Chelsea Savannah (25 weeks). Chelsea was born on Jan.
8 after 17 hours of labor and 2 hours of pushing, she weighed
7 lb 4 oz and was 21 inches. I love being a full time mommy!!!!!"
You know, after looking through the alumni news pages the
last time, that's no surprise… because ALMOST EVERY SINGLE
WOMAN WHO GRADUATED FROM HHS WENT ON TO BECOME "a full time
mommy!!!!" usually before they could drink legally. Because
really, what ELSE would a woman want to do, when CHILDREN
ARE A GIFT FROM GOD?!
I don't have children. I hate most children. If THTM and
I have a child, we will totally fuck it up, just for the fun
of it. No, I don't currently feel that something is wrong
with me because I don't have them. No, I don't particularly
feel that something is "missing." Yes, my husband and I are
perfectly capable of being "a family" without breeding. And
if we do breed, he's going to be a "full time daddy!!!" while
I work. (See? Doesn't it sound stupid when you put "daddy"
instead of "mommy"? If a parent works, are they a "part time
Names and Ages of Grandchildren: Just the thought
that anyone in their mid-thirties could, and is, a grandparent
scares the shit out of me. But I guess when you marry a Navy
guy at 18, which is what a lot of folks in San Diego do,
and immediately have babies, which is also what a lot of folks
in San Diego (not to mention a hell of a lot of HHS graduates) do,
then grandparenthood at the low end of your 30s is possible.
But it still scares the shit out of me. There but for the
grace of God, I guess.