They say you can never go back. Or can you?
This week I was invited to a group Facebook conversation with people I was in a hostel with in my first year of university back in 1995. The initiator was gauging interest in holding a reunion next year.
My initial reaction was shock that it would be 20 years - two whole decades since my poor mum dropped me off in Wellington and cried as far as Levin before she had to pull over, as I pinned up my Keanu Reeves poster and hoped my roommate wouldn't be a freak.
Then it moved to "oh my god what I have done with my life in 20 years" on to Facebook stalking the others in the conversation, "wow look at her with her perfect kids and handsome husband and fancy job and huge house". And eventually I got to wondering whether I would want to attend a reunion.
I don't look back on that year of my life with a joy that makes me want to get all Romy and Michele on it. Don't get me wrong, nothing terrible happened and in that hostel I met people who remain some of my closest friends to this day.
But the 18-year-old me and the me of today are such completely different creatures, as they are for most of us.
I was then a shy, insecure small-town girl with acne and frizzy hair who was convinced everyone else was 10 times more intelligent, funny, better looking and cooler than me. If only I could go back and tell my 18-year-old self they weren't.
In hindsight, my hostel mates were perfectly nice, normal teenagers and the insecurity that dogged me was in my head rather than in anything they did. But I wonder if I would revert to that person again if I was back surrounded by them.
After all, no matter how grown up we are, we can all get a bit teenagerish and snappy with our parents. Get back around high school classmates and the pretty ones are still the pretty ones and the nerdy ones still the nerdy ones. Even if they're not.
In movies and on TV, reunions are always about proving how much a character has changed, what they have achieved, or just how much hotter they look without the acne and braces. They invariably rock up with a hot body, a partner on their arm and an impressive life tale, eventually triumphing over their school bully or boyfriend that dumped them.
In real life there's probably a bit of that as well, but more importantly it's just a chance to catch up with old friends and reminisce about the past.
And I admit that side of it appeals. I recently attended a mini-reunion with a few old tennis friends. It had been about 10 years since I'd seen them, back in the day when I could rock a tennis skirt and my backhand came with a grunt Serena would be proud of. And we had a blast.
So I think I will harden up and go back. While I may not have a fancy house, six-figure salary and definitely not a hot body to show off, I am who I am and now, with 20 years' amazing life experience under my belt, that's finally good enough for me.