I recently met up with a couple friends from high school, both of whom I had not seen since the early days of college. One of them has become a flight attendant. The other, a nurse. Combine that with my current career as a graphic designer, and we all happened to have taken on roles that would fit quite appropriately in a Japanese porno. If you’re thinking that graphic designers do not appear in such adult films, then you obviously have not seen I Retouch Myself at Night: How I Flashed the Illustrator at the Photoshop and then Dreamweaved with my Freehand.

The gathering itself was bittersweet. To catch up on the last several years was great, but in doing so, I realized that too much life had passed unshared for our conversations to extend beyond the most superficial topics. These were people with whom I talked on the phone for hours into the night, shared moments with on the rides back home. Now I don’t even know if I’m in the position anymore to ask about even the slightest personal details. Who was the guy you went out with in Hong Kong? How did you guys break up? Do you still suffer from the giant pimple on your ass? These were questions that begged to be asked, but like I said, things have changed. Your ass acne is now strictly none of my business.

I wonder if I’m actually longing to return to the same kind of friendships, or if I’m just sad because I’m reminded how fast time is passing by. At our gathering, we reminisced about all the things we had done, secretly knowing none of it would happen again. The carefree way we carried ourselves has itself been carried away. But does it have to be so? Is it really that awkward for a group of 25-year-olds to get together for a slumber party during which we watch Titanic?

The answer, I suppose, is yes. Even DiCaprio and Winslet matured up for their reunion.

But what if we weren’t watching Titanic but something else entirely appropriate for our age? Something edgier, more relevant to current day?

I guess what I’m saying is, will you watch I Retouch Myself?

I don’t want to come off as an egotistical maniac, but my morning ritual does include checking the website of my alma mater to see if they have added me to their list of notable alum.

I was in line at the movie theater when a young boy walked up to a Terminator poster, widened his eyes, and shouted, “Look, dad! Transformers!”

Imagine my surprise this morning when I received an email notifying me that Big Tara, bane of my childhood, has added me on Facebook.

My guidance counselor once told me that my penchant for schoolyard gossip and rumors would be detrimental to my own personal development, but my curiosity for secrets of all kinds has led me directly to my career in international intelligence and surveillance.