What if ...

I got a bulk e-mail the other day from the DJO Class of 1989 rep telling me enthusiastically that my 20th reunion is coming up and that I should come.

That is how I knew it was a bulk e-mail. I knew who the rep was, but I am sure she doesn't know me. We never said a word to each other.

I am sure no one in my class realizes I would pretty much rather die than go to a reunion or relive the torture that was my high school years.

It wasn't just that I wasn't invited to parties. I didn't even know about the parties.

A friend of mine told me that even popular kids look back on high school with horror. I humored her by agreeing with her, but I hope few people experienced what I did. I wasn't bullied; I was just invisible, and I can think of no time with more regrets about my life.

I thought I liked What if ... comics because they often had kooky premises ... What if Iron Man was trapped in the time of King Arthur? But maybe I was thinking about all the What ifs that still haunt me 20 years later.

Probably somewhere among all my papers is a compatibility list that the Key Club or some group sold. I was thrilled that the girl of my dreams was ranked first. As I recall, it was a low score, like 50%, but who cares? Of course that just became another What if.

And of course, the biggest one: What if I had known that I was disabled, not just a scrawny, uncoordinated child?

I act like that would have imbued me with self-confidence. Not that it has yet.

I doubt it would have changed a thing really. But I look back on high school with such regret that I grasp at anything to excuse my unhappiness.