It would be a cliché for me to tell you how I came to university with my head filled with bright promises of the friends I’d make and the everlasting bonds I’d create, ones that would last a lifetime.
But then again, I pictured university life with rose-coloured glasses that could only be shattered by the reality of the dining hall back in first year.
Where do I sit? Why are these tables all arranged in group configurations? How do those people over there already have a group to sit and eat with? Why am I sitting alone? Why do I always sit alone? I can’t sit there, they’ll all stare at me, I’d be intruding.
This wasn’t like the movies. I was supposed to bump into someone, we were supposed to apologize, find out we like a lot of the same things, get along like a house on fire, then fast forward a couple of years and I would be her maid of honour.
Thicker than thieves, blood-doesn’t-make-sisters-I-chose-you-as-mine.
I think it’s obvious what my favourite fictional trope is. There is something so beautiful about found family, about bonds you choose to make with that are strong enough to act like family, borne of love and companionship. Friends you can turn to in a crisis, friends who know your secrets and share theirs in turn, who bring you soup when you’re sick so you don’t have to stick it out alone and don’t mind when you send them a million memes with the obligatory “us” message underneath.
I realized it’s a bit of a pipe dream for an introvert.
Relax, my brother said, there are people on the UBC subreddit who always post about being in third year and not having any friends. You’ll be fine.
But being compared to a Redditor is never comforting.
I resolutely kept my head down so I wouldn’t have to see the other tables filled with people who had something I so clearly didn’t. But the noise is damning — in a room filled with laughter and conversation, the sound of your silence is the loudest thing there.
I’d see people around campus who had friends while I sat alone, hoping desperately they wouldn't catch a glimpse of me.
Look, it’s that girl who had dinner with us once. Oh, she’s still alone.
Talk about embarrassing. A campus of over 70,000 students and I’d still have to hide from the same faces I made a fool of myself in front of. When everything seemed to come crashing down when every attempt to connect with someone would fail again and again and again...
Why try?
I put myself out there, I made myself uncomfortable and pushed to talk to others. I thought I felt that “click” so many times, just to get left alone repeatedly. What’s the point? I mean, I’m not even really here for friends, right? I’m here to get good grades. The only connections I need are the ones that’ll get me jobs and opportunities.
I’ve lived vicariously through fiction for this long, anyway. So I stopped going to the dining hall. I’d immediately return to my room when classes were over. I couldn’t even bury my head in my books anymore — not when I had so many papers to read for class.
But then...
It’s such a magical moment when you’ve given up and the person next to you in lecture turns around at the end of class and invites you to grab coffee with them because neither of you have class for another couple of hours.
All of a sudden — I was in the middle without knowing exactly where it began.
Why is this line so LONG? Man, it’s not even rush hour—
OMG, did you go see Batman in theatres? I LOVED THAT MOVIE—
I gotta get married to someone good at math, my children cannot come asking me for help on their homework—
I got you something for your birthday but I’m scared it won’t get here in time. DAMN STANDARD SHIPPING—
When did that bubble of silence pop? It never occurred to me when I was the one who was finally laughing with someone. When did fantasy start to carve itself into reality?
My friend commutes, so I have to say bye when our coffee ritual is over. But even though I still sat alone at the dining hall, I wasn’t quite so down about it anymore. Flashing on my screen would be text messages from my friend — someone I could finally send my stupid memes to. Someone who I continued sending stupid memes to even over the summer and well into second year when we reunited.
I’m about to go cheesy-on-main here — it’ll work out.
If you sit alone in class — it’ll work out. If you walk alone on campus — it’ll work out. If you’re in first year and you eat at the dining hall alone — I promise you it’ll work out.
It’s not quite like fiction yet. But that’s okay. Friends sucks anyways.