Dig if you will a picture...not going down that path.
My 20th high-school reunion is this year. I'm sure it will be a festive occasion, and a good time will be had by all. I know I will be having a blast since I won't be there.
Two decades beyond my matriculation I know that high-school was a many splendored (fuck you, I know it's not actually a word, but I've heard it used before) thing for many, but not for me. There's really not much to say to the vast majority of people that will be there, and most of them wouldn't really want to hear it anyway.
This is not a boo-hoo post. My life is pretty solid and I'm as close to happy as my neuroses will allow, so don't let that throw you. However the idea of high-school and things of that nature made me think of something. There is a horrible thing that sometimes happens when you run into people from your possible pasts. They tell you of what could have been. The worst is when one of them (a girl in this scenario) tells you how she had a crush on you in high-school and was totally into you. Granted this isn't a daily thing, but it has happened, and it hurts.
There's a fallacy I've heard repeated many times along the lines of "If I knew in high-school what I knew now I would totally have gotten laid all the time." No, you wouldn't have, at least not without a substantial amount of Rohipnol. Back on point, when you hear about this crush that someone had, or that they totally would have gone out with you it makes me sad. Perhaps I would have hated high-school less if I'd slept with more women. Probably not, but it's a possibility.
None of this directly to relates to how I came up with this particular blog idea, but I'll get there. For all of the near misses I've had in life, none of them were of Earth shattering importance. An extra hand job here, a blow-job there, but nothing that would significantly have altered my timeline in getting here. For that I am blessed.
Consider Thadious Gregory (not his real name, because I have no idea what it really is). He was a British kid (still is). There is an open casting call for a Warner Brothers movie the better part of a decade ago. He goes with his mum and his dad and queues up with the other young lads to have a go at it.
He gets a call back. Out of the thousands of people who met with casting agents they saw something special in him. So he goes back. Then he gets yet another callback, and another. Eventually it is down to him and two other kids. Then it is just him and another boy. A boy by the name of Daniel Radcliffe. You know, the Danielle Radcliffe that made an RCH over $41 million dollars last year playing a certain bespectacled wizard.
Imagine if you were Thadious. How could you ever, even in a million years, reconcile yourself to the fact that you almost became Harry Potter, only to be beaten by another young man who would eventually do a nude scene with a horse puppet? Every waking moment would be a reminder of what you almost had, how if life had taken just a slightly different turn the world would have been your oyster, and that no woman would be out of your league.
The mere thought that this poor person is out there makes all of my failures, all my near-misses, all of my disasters seem much more manageable. I know there are people I really hate, but I guarantee Thadious fucking despises Daniel.
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