Tuesday, December 21, 2004
First Impressions
It's funny the people who become your friends. Take the beginning of any new situation in my life. If someone had stopped me to point out, "these are the people who will be your friends," I don't know if I would have believed them.
I think that many times, friendship is less a matter of choice and more something you just fall into. Friendship is weird that way. And first impressions? They really aren't the big definer they're made out to be.
For example, Kristy. I distinctly remember the first time I met Kristy. Or saw her, really--I don't think we ever officially introduced ourselves. I knew Kristy's name from Bubbs, the university message board, and she'd seemed like one of the "cool kids" online. She seemed like that in person, too--I saw her across the classroom my first night of English Seminar, laughing and flirting with a guy from the crowd I thought of as the "cool" English majors. That semester, Kristy and I had classes together every day. I still persisted in thinking she was too cool to be friends with me.
I had my first hint otherwise when she sat beside me in Intro to Shakespeare one day and announced, "I read your Bubbs resume." I didn't know what to think.
Then the afternoon before our term paper was due, Kristy called me out of the blue: "Just what is this paper supposed to be about, anyway?"
We talked for an hour, about almost everything but the paper we were supposed to be writing.
She told me how she'd wanted to get to know me, but that she felt I didn't like her. All because of one day in Creative Writing when, trying to be helpful, she'd asked if she could cut the label off my scarf. The scarf I'd bought in Florence. The label that said "Made in Italy." I vaguely remember shrugging the scarf out of her reach, fearful for the demise of its label. She took it as a brush-off. I just liked that label.
For the remaining month of the semester, Kristy and I became great friends. We pondered the implications of accidentally landing on Dan Price's lap when walking into Shakespeare late on one of the days Dr. Smith was showing a film in the impossibly dark classroom. We critiqued each others' writing and discussed the finer points of self-fulfilling prophecy. Kristy was determined to hook me up with one of her friends, but the exclamation "I hate him for not seeing anything in you!" just about sums that up.
We hung out till 3am the night before our Shakespeare final ("It's an essay exam; you can't study for those!") and somehow our grades were none the worse for it.
For years, Kristy and I talked about being roommates. We never managed it, but we've been close friends for nearly 6 years now. I was in her wedding two summers ago. But from that first meeting, I never would have thought we'd be friends.
Just goes to show you not to trust first impressions.
I think that many times, friendship is less a matter of choice and more something you just fall into. Friendship is weird that way. And first impressions? They really aren't the big definer they're made out to be.
For example, Kristy. I distinctly remember the first time I met Kristy. Or saw her, really--I don't think we ever officially introduced ourselves. I knew Kristy's name from Bubbs, the university message board, and she'd seemed like one of the "cool kids" online. She seemed like that in person, too--I saw her across the classroom my first night of English Seminar, laughing and flirting with a guy from the crowd I thought of as the "cool" English majors. That semester, Kristy and I had classes together every day. I still persisted in thinking she was too cool to be friends with me.
I had my first hint otherwise when she sat beside me in Intro to Shakespeare one day and announced, "I read your Bubbs resume." I didn't know what to think.
Then the afternoon before our term paper was due, Kristy called me out of the blue: "Just what is this paper supposed to be about, anyway?"
We talked for an hour, about almost everything but the paper we were supposed to be writing.
She told me how she'd wanted to get to know me, but that she felt I didn't like her. All because of one day in Creative Writing when, trying to be helpful, she'd asked if she could cut the label off my scarf. The scarf I'd bought in Florence. The label that said "Made in Italy." I vaguely remember shrugging the scarf out of her reach, fearful for the demise of its label. She took it as a brush-off. I just liked that label.
For the remaining month of the semester, Kristy and I became great friends. We pondered the implications of accidentally landing on Dan Price's lap when walking into Shakespeare late on one of the days Dr. Smith was showing a film in the impossibly dark classroom. We critiqued each others' writing and discussed the finer points of self-fulfilling prophecy. Kristy was determined to hook me up with one of her friends, but the exclamation "I hate him for not seeing anything in you!" just about sums that up.
We hung out till 3am the night before our Shakespeare final ("It's an essay exam; you can't study for those!") and somehow our grades were none the worse for it.
For years, Kristy and I talked about being roommates. We never managed it, but we've been close friends for nearly 6 years now. I was in her wedding two summers ago. But from that first meeting, I never would have thought we'd be friends.
Just goes to show you not to trust first impressions.
| posted by Barbara | 3:17 AM