Two former high school classmates have ‘found’ me online and tracked me to my place of employment. One has phoned one of our boutique locations; the store manager passed her message on to me via email: “…this woman said they’ve been looking for you for 40-years. Here’s her cell and email…”
I did not reach out. A few weeks later they discovered my company’s website ‘customer question’ portal and sent an inquiry regarding “…he was a classmate and we’re trying to contact him, please pass along this phone…” And I’ve not done anything with that communication either. I knew I might confront this situation some day once I launched my public Twitter account with my real name. I did so not to share the details of my private life but as a public mouthpiece for my company’s brand. I shared the link with a past coworker and she said “…but I don’t read YOU in any of it; be careful or will sound too corporate and you’ll lose followers. Put your personality into it…” Meh. Oh hai gurl; that is not going to happen. Ahem.
While these two 60-year-old women may have warm fun memories of our camaraderie that we can briefly revel in the fog of nostalgic recall most of my high school memories are hellish and hurtful. I was the new kid in town when I entered 7th grade. Those circle of friends cliques had already formed. Besides, I was the new skinny queer in town. It was the early 70s and my fashion sense and fey manners were about to get trampled.
More to follow on this topic.