Awkward Reunions

I probably don’t have to tell you that being from home from college is wonderful, splendiferous really. You get a nice long and relaxing break from all the classes, and chaos. But perhaps the best part of all is getting to see all your friends from High School. There’s a special kind of comfort that comes from hanging out with your old buds again. It’s awesome being home, but there are some bad parts, I’m referring of course to those titular awkward reunions.


As you’re hopefully well aware everyone you know exists in a series of concentric circles or friend zones. In the very center you have your closest friends, the inner circle as it were, your two or three best friends who you trust enough to tell them all about that time you got drunk and did terrible things to a goat. Just outside the inner circle we of course have the core group, your posse, those 6-7 dumbasses (and I use the term affectionately) you wasted all your time with in high school. Next we have the Outer group, the people who you were friends with and all, but didn’t really hang out with.  Running into anyone in those three zones is awesome, that’s no problem, it’s when you run into people outside those three circles that the awkward sets in.

Say for instance you happen to walk into your local bagelry of choice, and oh, who’s that behind the counter, oh none other than that girl from High School that you never really knew or interacted in any way except for that one time you were SLAM leaders together. Naturally you feel compelled to say something, you did go to school together for the past 4 years, but what do you say, oh hey, how’s…bagels?

They're bagels so probably awesome
They’re bagels so probably awesome

Direct conversation is nigh on guaranteed to be excruciating so your only option is to duck behind a sign hoping they didn’t see you. You can’t have an awkward exchange with a person you can’t see after all(truly flawless logic). If your lucky she’ll go help someone else with their order, at which point you can hurriedly run up to another bagelista (that’s what they’re called right?) and get your glorious polish bread. Ah but it’s taking too long because you just had to get a super complicated bagel sandwich and now she’s coming back. Hurry grab a human shield, anyone will do, the fatter the better, and if they resist whisper in their ear “just let it happen”. As soon as you get you get your sandwich you’ll throw the money on the counter and run out the door, having narrowly escaped the unbearable torture of having to talk to someone you kind of know.

Well I guess I won’t be eating bagels anymore.



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