This post was supposed to be about TBS’s new gameshow King of the Nerds, which premiered last night, but I didn’t catch it on TV and couldn’t find a way to catch it online, so that was that. Instead, since Gordon and I so eloquently discussed the purpose of post-secondary education this Wednesday, I’m going to be writing once again about college.
It’s said, and a study by Professor of Communication Glenn Sparks backs me up on this, that the friends you make in college become your best friends, the ones that last a lifetime. Which is great. I mean, it all makes sense. You’re living in the same space with other people who are, at least for a short period of time, studying the same sorts of things.
I was fortunate enough to befriend essentially the entire floor of my dorm my first two years of college [14 or so guys, all told], and later went on to move into a townhouse with seven of them. These were the same guys I shared meals with, either in the cafeteria or whatever we managed to scrape together in our kitchen. The same guys who all crowded together on couches every Saturday night to watch first The Office then Community [on Hulu, if you were wondering]. These are the same guys who I know will be invited to my wedding [assuming, of course, that it’s an event in my foreseeable future].
Then we all graduated.
I went back to Toronto, where I lie in my grandparents’ basement writing this post. Others went to Rochester, Maine, New Brunswick, Michigan, Las Vegas, Washington, and even Brazil and Ghana. Sure, I could visit the one in NY state, but that’s roughly a three hour drive [and I don’t, at this point in my life, have a license]. We have been scattered to the four winds.
Now I’m left asking myself what exactly I’m supposed to do now. Yes, it’s easy to post a funny/awesome YouTube video to Facebook to get reactions, but it’s so much better when you can call over your shoulder to your closest housemate and actually hear their laughter [or oooh of empathetic pain, either/or]. At this point I’ve spent most of life outside of Toronto and have painfully few friends outside of family [to be fair, I have a lot of cousins]. Now what do I do?
I spend a lot of time online. I talk to friends from college via Facebook or Gmail or Skype, and I’m actually chatting with one as I write this. For those of you who didn’t know, Gordon and I actually lived together [though never as roommates, gross] all four years of college, and E> is only one of the ways we communicate online. A sizable group of us actually plays D&D via Gmail video chat every Sunday afternoon. But outside of that?
The movie I Love You, Man is one of my favourites [though one half of this blog positively loathes it]. It’s essentially a “bromantic comedy,” in that the focus of the film is the relationship, friendship, between two men. Peter is a man who has never had close, lasting male friends and Sydney has realized that his friends are all married and moving on with their lives. I like it because it is a) hilarious, but also b) that it brings up the question of how to make friends in general.
During my final semester of college I wrote an op-ed for the newspaper about finding a Christian spouse in a secular world. The gist of which was, faith aside, that it’s hard. More than that, though, is the fact that when it comes to friends, I don’t really want to.
Why would I go out and make more guy friends when I already have amazing ones? I have sledded down ski hills and trekked through the woods and made dumplings and played D&D and taken ridiculous photos at 3 in the morning with my friends. I know who they are, and I honestly think that any other guys I try to befriend are just going to be left wanting.
The point is this: I made great [and yes, I like to think lifelong] friends in college. Now we are apart and, unless I want to spend all of my time in front of a computer screen, I need to make more. This may not be the state of all post-grads out there, but it’s where I am right now. To boil it down even further: moving on is hard and I would like to know how better to do that.