Remember the good ol’ days of the early 2000s, when we were blissfully ignorant of social media and the internet was barely out of its infancy? Well, the universe has a cruel sense of humor. I always thought the most shocking post-divorce news about my father would be a new car or, at worst, a questionable tattoo. Instead, I was blindsided by the revelation that he’s dating Melissa Costa—a girl I went to high school with. Yes, that Melissa—the one who had a meltdown at prom because her date got drunk and threw up during “Hey Ya!” Why is everyone so obsessed with nostalgia?!
It’s wild how online culture feeds us nostalgia bait for clicks, but witnessing it in real life? That’s a whole new level of gross. My dad, who just bought a pair of JNCOs, is living out this trend like he’s a photo of the Hamburger Jail at McDonald’s. I’m not sure whether to laugh or hide under the couch. Nostalgia isn’t just a marketing ploy anymore; it’s infiltrating my family dynamics.
In an effort to relive his high school days he accidentally started reliving mine! He’s telling stories to Melissa about that time he drove the both of us to a Linkin Park concert or how he let us stay up late for a Buffy marathon. Watching him try to impress her with tales of flip phones and mixtapes is like witnessing a boomer shitposting Facebook group about streetlights and hose water.
Melissa, of course, is fully aware of what she’s doing—casually referencing “The O.C.” and showing off her “Toxic” choreography. It’s like she’s trying to recreate our teenage years, except now, instead of gossiping in the cafeteria, she’s sipping Chardonnay with my dad while watching TRL clips on YouTube. She even has him reminiscing about nights at Sit-Down Pizza Hut, drinking soda from red plastic cups like they’re starring in some warped ad for an era we should’ve left behind.
So here we are, stuck in a bizarre generational loop where my dad is dating my former classmate, desperately trying to resurrect the glory days of my youth. While I scroll through social media and roll my eyes at posts about Tamagotchis, wood paneling, Winamp, and yellow Wendy’s: nothing could prepare me for the day my dad turned into a walking, talking meme for the early-aughts.