Dreading Reunions

A couple of weeks ago, I received a wedding invite from one of my classmates in high school. Despite his being an asshole to one of my closest friends (once upon a time), we joked about going. Oh, what fund we’d have making fun of everything. A lot of our classmates are going and it’s promised to be some sort of a mini-reunion.

But why does the idea of attending a reunion, even mini ones, give me a sense of dread? Because I have nothing of value to show for – no wonderful kids to brag about; no loving husband and no great marriage to talk of; nothing of those that really matter in life. When at my age all I have are self-doubt and wounds from the recent implosion of my relationship, how do I measure up? That I go home to an empty flat and the highlight of my evenings are perfecting a piano piece and watching an episode of The Sopranos but I have a rewarding career and I am free to do whatever I want – is just too tough and wearisome a justification to make. How lame they’d think my excuse is. Can people understand that yes, I yearn for The One, but my goal for the moment is to deal with the difficulty of achieving balance and holding on to ordinary happiness?