Where's The Love?

There were hugs and OMGs, wine and hors d'eouvres, valet parking and what-year-did-you-graduate?  And one jaw-dropping confess-ion:  "Oh, Carol, I feel so terrible.  All these years, I've wanted to tell you something."

Well.  Whatever could it be?  You've got my attention now.  I hadn't seen this gorgeous friend in 33 years.  We'd been close way back when, and here we were, gathered at a mini-reunion of folks who'd attended the same public schools, junior and high, in the '70s.  As most reunions go, it was funny and bizarre and not the least bit ego-boasting.  Not on any level.  Nada.  They might as well have unfurled a banner:  Former Young People Who've Looked Better, Right This Way.  I spent most of the evening going up to those I didn't recognize (and vice versa) and saying, "'76?  No wonder I don't know you.  I'm '75."  "'77?  Are you out of diapers yet?"  "'78?  Why am I even talking to you." 

Back to the confession, from the fetching Penelope.  Names have been radically changed to protect the guilty (only because I'm such a mensch), with the exception of hubby, who wasn't at the mini-what's-it (convenient!), but was implicated in this tale.  Did I mention I've known him since 8th grade? 

Penelope asked, "Remember when you were going out with Howard?" "Vaguely.  But I married him, anyway."  "Back in ninth grade," she added, for clarification.  "It was the summer after ninth grade," I said.  "Remember, Sunbeam liked him, too."  Already, I wasn't digging this story.  "Uh-huh."  "And so one day, Sunbeam said, 'We all hate Carol.' ''  "What?"  I said, equally honored and appalled.  I've never heard of anyone hating me before.  It was strangely exhilarating, to think the SJG could elicit such anti-love.  Penelope put her hand on my shoulder.  "We all hated you."  "All?  How many are we talking here?  Round it off to the nearest thousand, I'm fragile."  "Just the four of us."  Four haters.  That's it?  Disappointing.  I expected big numbers. "Names please."  "Sunbeam, me, Heloise and Leticia.  We hated you for going out with Howard." "Heloise and Leticia?  They hated me, too?"  I did a quick inventory of all the times I'd said "hey" and "how's it goin'" and "cool vest" and "have a bitchin' summer" to these early founders of Mean Girls, Inc.  "At some point, was the ban lifted, or is it on-going?  Do I need to hire a bodyguard?  Am I safe?" I asked.  "Oh, Carol," Penelope said, buying me a glass of chardonnay, "It didn't last that long."  Hmm... a little vague. "I've always felt bad about it.  I'm just so sorry."  "Don't worry.  You've just handed me tomorrow's blog."  She grabbed the chardonnay away.  "Wait.  You're not going to write about this are you?"  "Oh, hell yes," I said. "This is the kind of stuff I live for."