I recieved a message this week --a rather unexpected message. "Anyone feeling old enough to call a reunion?" It was sent by a girl, who I went to school with for five years. When she left in seventh grade, she wrote me a lengthy letter letting me know she no longer wanted to be friends with me and not to try to keep in touch with her. Sometime during this past school year, she found me on facebook. We chatted once just after we added each other, and zip nada zilch after that.

This message was sent to some of the few people who comprised our fourth grade class. Why she wants a fourth grade class reunion I will never know. But hers the thing, most of the people who are invited left the school hating my guts. What can I say? I'm a very blunt and honest person --maybe even a tad hot-headed--, so rubbing people the wrong way was inevitable. I haven't talked to anyone who left well . . . since they left.

I have to admit I'm a little intrigued by this: Why not show off what you've got now? You're different. No one's seen you in years. Of course, I have to realize I'm still stuck at the school they've left, and what makes me think any of them have changed what they felt about me?

At first, no one responded to the message, so I thought I was in the clear. *Phew* No one wants to see each other. But now there've been a couple responses, and (what do you know) they're all for it. Except you get the nice little comments such as "I've been doing my best to block it out." The girl saying that means her years at my school.

Disclaimer: I wanted to get away from talking about guys and love and all that jazz for a moment.

It seems like not to long ago I was telling you all about my fabulous Black Tie Affair. I'm already prepping for it again. This time it's going to be in December, so we can all see A White Christmas. I wanted to get a Maggie Sottero dress, but I missed out on my chance. Thankfully there are plenty of other option out there. This year money is not the issue. It's my senior year, so I feel like I should go big or go home. I've always taken the last minute route when it's come to previous, so this year I'm going to take a different approach.

I called a bridal boutique this morning hoping to track down my dream dress, which I have come to learn is now discontinued to make way for the new 2010 prom collection. The lady speaking to me looked up the dress I originally wanted and offered an alternative. So off I went looking at all the new possibilities.

Here are the links to the dresses I'm interested in. I would love to get as much feedback as possible before I order one.

http://www.foreverbridals.com/gownpix.asp?Style=99111
http://www.foreverbridals.com/gownpix.asp?Style=99112
http://www.foreverbridals.com/gownpix.asp?Style=99121

It's an odd feeling: I almost don't know how to begin to describe it. Your breath catches; you look around anxiously; your skin begins to crawl. This uncomfortable feeling that overwhelms you and sits between your shoulder blades --a constant reminder. A reminder of how much you never wanted to be in this situation, but here you are. The same situation, the same feeling, the same longing to run away and forget all about. Why are you here again? You should have known better... Now everything is going to be awkward. If only I'd just said no when I had the chance.

As we dance between the thin line of frienda and more than friends, it only becomes clearer to me that I can never ever be the same with him again. His touch is all too familiar, and I still want to jump out of my skin (I don't mean that in a good way). I can't speak up though. I can't say stop or back off or please don't touch me like that. I can't make it clear to him that I don't want to be with him.

I don't know why I promised to hold his hand just to get him to come down to see me, but I wasn't about to not keep my promise. That just opened the flood gate. After that I couldn't get him to stop trying to hold my hand or put his around around my shoulder. I kept wondering what the people in the mall must have thought or do they even notice my rigid walk as the tall blond next to me pulls me closer? Apparently he didn't pay attention to the "f*** off" sign being raised over my forehead.

I was happy to get into the movie theater, so we could just sit and watch a movie. I don't think he really paid any attention to the movie. Did I have to break his arm to keep it off of me? He played with my hand and would not shut up. I demanded to be taken home after the movie was over --I demanded nicely of course. Once I got home, I was almost tempted to rip the long stem red rose he gave me to piece: That might have made me feel better. Friends don't give other friends long stem red roses.

The next day I told him no more. I didn't want to hang out with him for a very particular reason, and he agreed. He claimed that once he turns eighteen things will be different. No, things wont be different. He'll be able to do and get whatever he wants. I'd love to see you try. You're in for a pleasent surprise. Once he's eighteen, he thinks we'll be able to be a couple. Woah there. I think you might have slipped and smacked your head on the pavement. I never said yes to that, and I don't plan on saying yes.

Screams

Stop it. Just stop it.

But I suppose this little dance we do will continue for awhile longer.