I am not one of those people who ever hated high school.
I had a pretty sweet deal most of the time.
I had great friends, a boyfriend, I played soccer and was on student council, sang in Glee, I had the lead in high school Musicals, and was on the newspaper and secretary of the Spanish Club. But, that last one really just meant we spent the day eating el pop tarts and writing notes about ugly people.
Something happened my senior year of high school.
I skipped Spanish so much I was no longer an elected officer.
I was cut from Glee Club which was ridiculous, because my harmony on Love Shack was fucking brilliance.
I lost out on the lead in Oklahoma, despite the amazing audition piece I had with my friend, Casey, who was auditioning for the male role. Never mind my superb vocals, my Mennonite garage sale prairie skirt, and the passionate kiss at the end of our monologue.
I mean, it was pretty much as romantic as The Notebook.
If the girl in The Notebook wore toe rings and liked kissing boys who were both gay and had an unhealthy obsession with Savage Garden.
Everything I knew to be true that year changed.
I thought high school had ruined my life, but that was the year I decided I wanted to be a writer, I volunteered at an animal shelter, and lost my virginity in the back of an 1988 Honda Hatchback to a Tears for Fears song.
I mean, what else did I have to invest my time in?
Glee Club? Play Practice? Conjugating verbs?
But, if you every have a need for discreet hand jobs on wobbly high school gymnasium bleachers or someone to roll you a really tight joint, I’m your girl.
I don’t even know why I spent so many years upset about this. Clearly it was for the best. Otherwise, I could have very well went to college a virgin, and not know my way around a set of balls (read: do not put them in your mouth on a first date).
Unless…I could have gotten the lead in Oklahoma and then been discovered, like Katie Holmes. She lived, like, 30 minutes from me, and was totally discovered during her high school play.
I could have been on Dawson’s Creek. In a series of bad movies. Then awkwardly married to Tom Cruise, and moping around New York City with stringy hair and tight rolled boyfriend jeans with heels.
High school ruins everything.
I could be a Scientologist right now.
And best friends with Victoria Beckham.
I could keep my loose change in her clavicles.
You know what, high school? You can suck it, I give really good hand jobs, I am happily married with three kids and I get paid to write about my private parts on the internet, and Casey is a famous musician with a super hot boyfriend. And what do you have? A budget deficit and a skyrocketing teenage pregnancy rate.