Okay, before we move on, people, would you mind translating this into German for me?:
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. If you recommend this, then we can keep our Saturday night sandbox up for a while.
Okay, listen, I don’t have a lot of time because I’m writing this at the last minute, BUT. I do have an FP and that’s the fact that I’ve been messing around WAY too much on facebook and have found TONS of old friends and now we’re going to have a reunion of a bunch of people that I used to work with, like, 30 years ago at a huge record store here in Portland and it was the Best Job Ever and we were the SHIT, man, everybody envied us our jobs and I can’t wait to see them and it’s going to be really fun and – OHMYGAWD – I’ve missed them so much, but I’m just sort of regretting the fact that I didn’t stay in better shape because now I’m going to see all of these old friends and I just don’t want to face that initial moment when it becomes apparent to everyone that, unlike 30 years ago when I was young and nubile, all of a sudden now – 30 years later – MY BUTT NEEDS ITS OWN ZIP CODE!!
Okay, now that that’s out of the way. I really don’t care about that. I was just funnin’. The truth is that I’m completely looking forward to the shindig. I’m hosting at my place and it’s going to be amazing to see everyone.
In fact, today I got together for lunch with one of my best pals from back then. After lunch, he and I went to the music store to shop for the soundtrack to our "Big Chill". It was a complete blast.
But, yeah, I do have an FP: There were several falling outs in the crowd back then and one of them, one of the worst, one of the most juvenile and damaging and awful - was my doing. I was a complete bitch. Ab.so.lute.ly. horrid. And now I need to apologize. Finally. I have to find the guy to whom I did the damage and level decades worth of apologies. Because he should be there with us next month. He should. People are saying, "don’t bother," but I have to bother. He belongs there with us. And it’s my job to get him there.
(Insert heavy sigh here.) The only phone number I can find isn’t a good one. But I have an address. So tomorrow, I write. I write my little heart out. I apologize like I never have before.
And then, I wait. And hope.