IF YOU MARRY YOUR HIGH SCHOOL BOYFRIEND, YOU BETTER MAKE SURE THAT THERE IS MORE TO IT THEN THE FACT HE HAS A CAR

This weekend, I discovered a theatrical performance that was one of the most enjoyable I had experienced in a long time. The Awesome 80’s Prom. SWCNBN and I went there to celebrate her bachelorette party and it was a fabulous time. For those of you who have never heard of it, you basically walk into a room decorated like a school gym for prom night and become party of the Wannagit High (get it?) class of 1989. Its an interactive experience with dance contests and a cast made up of all the stereotypical high school folks – the jock, the nerds, cheerleaders, rebels, sexually confused theater geeks, etc. SWCNBN indulged in pop rocks and vodka (not soda – we did not want her to explode like Mikey from the Life commercials) and got to dance with the most popular boy in school. Afterwards, SWCNBN commented that in high school, she would have gone for the sexually confused boy and not the Captain of the Football Team. That’s pretty funny since SWCNBN future groom is a former skateboarder and not bond trader. Hardly her High School dream guy.

In high school I went for the boys with an edge. There was Eric, the sarcastic theater geek who tried unsuccessfully to rule our little clique. Then, in an effort to reform myself, there was Steve, the guy next door (almost literally) who I had known since seventh grade and for whom I suffered though years of unrequited teen love before he finally noticed me. Steve was a year older and went to college so senior year there was Ryan, who I think was gay but he was so cute and sensitive, that I figured I could overlook the who sleeping with boys thing.

I always wondered what happened to the high school Exes and picture them on a dusty closet shelf jumbled together like a bunch of dolls long forgotten and outgrown.

I recently ran into an ex-boyfriend (post college, I am embarrassed to admit) on the street while walking my dog. New York can be an annoyingly small city. When I dated this guy, I though he was a moron. But he was really good looking and the high school girl in me wanted the grown up equivalent of the most popular boy in school.

Of course, I was in sweat pants, unshowered and hung over and carrying a bag of doggie feces. Super. You never run into anyone when you are dressed up in heels being escorted by a George Cloony look alike. His wife smirked at me as though she had won the lottery. WTF? He’s not such a prize unless unmotivated and painfully stupid, but very good looking is some sort of weird thing about which to dream. But maybe she is also an idiot, or at least can tolerate idiots. Besides, (and here was where I could smirk a little) he clearly was gaining weight at rate which could only be matched by the speed at which his hairline is receding. And when Ex loses his looks, he will have lost his only redeeming quality.

We exchanged the small talk hellos and made appropriate introductions and then continued on our paths. I could not help but reflect that my dumb but cute Ex had become not so cute. A man who thought a 1.6 from the local community college was just fine and religiously attended “How to get Rich in Today’s Real Estate Market” and “Make Money though the Power of Suggestion” conferences was no longer cute? Maybe the smirk from his wife meant I had won the lottery by breaking up with him years ago? Sure, he is still nice but who wants dumb, ugly and nice? My high school self would have been appalled.