FOMO

Today is the best day of the year at UNH. It is the 150th Homecoming at my alma mater, the University of New Hampshire and I am having extreme FOMO (fear of missing out). Homecoming is the holy grail of UNH celebrations. “Remember at Homecoming when…” is a common phrase screamed by Wildcats young and old for long after the festivities come to an end.

On this day last year, Elora Moeller was banging on my door and jumping into my bed at 8 in the morning to wake me up, mimosas waiting on the table. Pancakes and bacon would soon be sizzling in the pan thanks to Charlotte and we would wait another hour before rousing Colin because we know he’s an angry beast before 9 am.

Although I am incredibly grateful for this new adventure I’ve embarked on, I miss these days. A lot. I knew I would, which is why it was so difficult leaving our apartment and UNH and my AB family. But missing the “good old days” takes on a new meaning given that I’m in the midst of basically starting a life from scratch. There is little to no overlap between my life in Durham and my life new life here in France. Which is great in so many ways-clean slate, endless opportunity, a chance to dig into myself a bit more than I have in the past. But I’m realizing that although I am an incredibly social person, I struggle a bit with the part where you have to actually make the friends to be social with.

Thinking back I realize that I’ve always had trouble with transitions to new social settings. Summer camps, new work environments, sports teams, my first year at college. Woof. I think I’m reluctant in forming friendships for the same reason I am about romantic relationships–what if we aren’t compatible?! What if the hype wears off?! What if this doesn’t work out?! What if we’re stuck together both feeling too badly to break things off?! See why I’m single?

I know that is completely unreasonable-that you have to put yourself out there and take risks when meeting new people. I also know that I can be a versatile friend. It’s not that I conform. I just have such wide ranging interests which helps me to get along with people in different ways. Take my senior year roommates. I don’t think anyone would take any of these three at face value and throw them in an apartment with me. But we each formed unique friendships based on our commonalities. Colin and I were a cappella nerds. Charlotte and I liked to clean and pretentiously debate sociological theory. And Elora and I liked blowing off homework to drink G&T’s.

Going ahead I must remember that although people here might be coming from entirely different places, speaking strange languages, and used to a variety of lifestyles, there is always common ground. Which takes effort to find–the defining word of my first few weeks here. Yep, it certainly would be much easier to make no effort at all. To be a hermit and pass it off as self exploration. But like any good Into The Wild junkie knows, happiness is only real when shared.

So, though I am facing this intimidating friend-making process, I take all the people who have colored my life thus far as evidence that I am good at making friends. So santé to new friends and cheers to my Wildcats. Though I’ve traded my PBR for a bottle of rosé, I ask that you all pour one out for your homie in France and wish me luck in my quest to find new weirdos.

À bientôt mes amis.