Past Is Present

Recently, due to the wonder that is Facebook, I've been running into people that I haven't spoken to in years. Some of those people I really hadn't even thought of in a long time; some were people I knew I'd misplaced, I just couldn't remember where. I'm talking to my old dorm mates from 25 years ago, theatre folk from 30 years ago, my old band buddies from 10 years ago; and mostly its been pretty terrific. Some (maybe most) of that has to do with age. I mean, there were guys in my dorm who drove me up the wall when I lived there, now they're all mellow and funny and smart. The theatre crew, jeez we were in high school, which is basically permission to be a shit head and mostly everyone is pleasant and compassionate and slightly ashamed. And my band girls? That's just generally great. I'd missed them. They're still quirky and talented and fabulous. So all in all, my little trip down memory lane has been pretty great, right?
Not entirely.
I ran into an ex-boyfriend, a major ex-boyfriend and I figured what the hell and e-mailed him. I didn't think he lived around here anymore and felt confident that he would be married or something close to it. But hey! He's in the next city over, after getting punted from an eight year relationship. We met for drinks and no, there's no notion of getting back together. The break-up only just happened and it happened because he finally admitted he was addicted to gambling. He's doing all the right things, plus a few extra things to get his life back and I applaud that and I'm proud of him. But I would have a much easier time if he were a drunk or a drug addict. I kind of understand those things. I simply don't get gambling. I don't think I'm less of a friend to him because of that, but I don't get it. Gambling? Its dull. To me. Obviously.
Late last week an old college friend called my mother, trying to figure out where I was. Its been a good ten or eleven years since I spoke to her. Only she wasn't someone I'd misplaced; I'd very intentionally removed myself from her life. I didn't like her. We had nothing in common. She'd been the pretty girl in college (and I'd been the sidekick) and she'd never stopped seeing our relationship in that way. I wasn't interested in being the sidekick anymore, especially since she just wasn't the pretty one after fifteen years. But we've e-mailed a couple of times and she seems... lonely. And grateful to be talking to me. That makes me feel either fiendishly powerful or guilty for feeling that way and then I have to question "why is she lonely? Does she still behave like the hottest girl on campus?" That would not be a good thing. I suppose I'm willing to find out, though.
Today I got the paper. I read this article. One of the people mentioned in this article was my best friend when I was 5 or 6 years old. Now she's a mentally ill, recently homeless drug addict. How the hell... no, I know how the hell. I knew some time ago that there was something not right about her. No, not when I was 5 or 6. We actually stayed friends for a while, probably up until middle school or so. She wasn't alright then. I just didn't know in what way. Now I do. Wish I didn't.
I kind of hoping this great reunion is wrapping itself up. I'm not loving every minute of it.