Senioritis: Soon To Be Friendless
This past Sunday was by far the most stressful night of my entire life. Not only was Desperate Housewives new for the first time in months, but Melissa Joan Hart’s movie was premiering and the Natalie Holloway story was airing. Now I’m not a mathematician or even a biochemical engineer, so figuring out how to schedule all these things onto my DVR within the same two hour period was quite the challenge. But after a half hour of concentration (and realizing MJH’s movie My Fake Fiance runs back-to-back for four days) I figured it out.
I had assumed that I would watch the Natalie Holloway movie and My Fake Fiance in private while my roommates were at class so I wouldn’t have to hear them make fun of me for days on end (I’ve spent the entire year pretending not to know that we have Lifetime Movie Network). But then someone threw a joking reference out about My Fake Fiance and I latched on. It’s not that either of us thought it would be anywhere near good, but we both knew that it was going to be so bad that it would be hilarious. And then, like a gift from heaven, another friend wanted to watch the Natalie Holloway story. And before I knew it, there were 5.5 (the .5 is for the neighbor that got stuck watching but didn’t appreciate it for the art that it was) of us sitting around watching this marathon of horrible-yet-addicting TV.
Then I got really sad. Partly because Melissa Joan Hart seems to get off on committing career suicide again and again, but also because I’m pretty sure I will never find friends again who enjoy watching the same kind of television that I do. Next year will be like freshman year all over again since I won’t be living with friends. I have horrible flashbacks of having to watch Degrassi in ten minute spurts while my roommate showered. Then I have flashbacks of hiding all my weird quirks from people until I knew that they also thought it was okay to get froyo samples and never actually order a real one.
I can’t go back to not having friends.
But that’s what graduation means. Everyone moving in their own directions and no one communicating besides the occasional Twitter update. There will be no one to make 3 a.m prank calls about missing cats, no one to think it’s funny when I steal a 4-ton container of sour cream, and no one to tell me when Melissa Joan Hart’s inevitable ABC Family Labor Day movie is coming out.
Maybe I’m being melodramatic but I just don’t get how people make friends outside of college. My Mom recommends J-Date, but she recommends that for everything from bad dates to bad grades. So there really is no hope. And in less than three weeks I’ll be friendless.
I guess the only choice I have is to get all my weird habits out of my system until I have to start making first impressions all over again.