Most of us have been chomping at the bit to get back to campus. My major driving force to return from break was my friends. For me, missing people is a very rare phenomenon. Yet somehow, it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling in my chest that reminded me how much I love and value the relationships I had begun to forge last semester.
I’m downright gleeful when I bump into that dude (his name is actually The Dude) who lives in my dorm and reads all my articles while in line for the Ratty. Or the sheer elation I feel when I’m hiking (more like crawling) up the stairs to the attic (third floor) of Sayles (I thought I signed up for short story analysis in French, not Himalayan cliff-scaling techniques). And even Frisbee Kaia hugs me and suggests we get lunch some time. Nothing really compares to the leaping and shrieking of my roommates Sarah, Keenan, Melissa, and I as we reunite after five long weeks of separation and solitude.
But there is another, darker side to the ever-ecstatic return to campus. The one characterized by searingly painful awkwardness.
If you are like me — and uncannily good with both names and faces, then you know just what I mean. You often find yourself in this situation: a guy you met the other night spontaneously comes over to chat with you, and he introduces himself, and you respond with something along the lines of, “Yeah, I know, we met at the crew party last Thursday and talked for like six minutes. You’re from Minnesota and your mom is a pediatrician,” but he’s all like, “Oh man, I don’t remember that at all, I’m so sorry,” then you say, “Yeah that’s okay, I’m just really good at this stuff. My name is Cameron. Don’t forget again.”
Perhaps you are little more tactful than I. Or perhaps you choose to gloss over his dunce-like qualities out sheer of mercy and forgiveness and allow the situation to pass without incident. But what happens when you are the initiator?
Let’s say you’re literally walking down the street, and you recognize a girl you were casually acquainted with last month and you, being you, recognize her and are prepared for a friendly embrace. So you make eye-contact, and slow a little in your step, ready for anything……but nothing! Does she not recognize you? How could that be?? You are incredulous, and confounded. How could everything you so painstakingly and lovingly built dissolve in a mere five weeks to the point of complete nothingness?
More importantly, now what? Do you take the risk and say hi?
More often than not, no. You keep walking. Saving the weirdness for the next encounter when you have to deal with the fact that you already saw each other once and did nothing.
It’s even worse when you expect someone to recognize you but they don’t. Like when you show up for the first production meeting of a show that the director, your friend (or SO YOU THOUGHT), asked you to be a part of, and you wave hello, but his face is completely blank and his eyes are empty. It takes a full forty-five seconds for the gears to begin moving, and by then the damage has already most certainly been done.
That’s the kind of shit I’m dealing with here.
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