seeking arrangements
personal essay
If high school friends are forgettable and college friends are lifelong, what do we make of graduate school friends? I’ve personally had a more difficult time making friends since starting school in D.C., but I’d like to think it’s because I am in a long distance relationship that puts me in New Jersey half of the time. I am never on campus, and I don’t go out of my way to drink alcohol and meet people. But what I think about aren’t the people I’ve yet to meet but those that I have encountered.
There is something of a conversation pattern that has emerged among my educated peers, much like a consulting case pattern or a statistical test structure. Such conversations always start out with strong eye contact and a 180-degree smile. The acquaintance will sound confident in his delivery. He makes sure to repeat your name continuously throughout conversation, an old sales trick that guys have co-opted to pick up girls. He is also quick to make things official with the question: what do you want to do after graduation?
This is not a friendly question. For those that are seeking jobs, it’s a reminder that you’re not there yet. For those that don’t know what they want, it’s an attack. If you’re already working or have a job offer lined up, maybe this is your chance to shine. But for a green-horned graduate like me, the quick pace of business banter always leaves me confused. Are we networking or is this friendship? Worst of all, is this flirting? This is not how I flirt with my boyfriend and vice versa. I’ve learned that the post-graduation job question is a landmine much like other post-challenge questions we’ve experienced throughout our lives: “Did you pass?” “Did you get in?” “Did they text you back???”
I couldn’t help but wonder: as degree decorated graduates, have we lost the ability to make friends?
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I’ve heard DC individuals describe their home as a transient city. People have large carbon footprints from all the travelling they’ve done prior to arrival, then as a transplant they continue with foreign forays. My professors are constantly shuttling to conferences in other states and even in other countries; my classmates are engaged in international relations in their public and private lives. So maybe, DC’s and graduate school’s brevity lends itself to being a layover rather than a post where we spread roots. Much like a fourth or fiftieth relationship, we are carrying baggage from our past that we are not ready to let go of. There are hobbies that we’ve already developed and friends that we’ve already made. Between those prior commitments and schoolwork, it is difficult to allocate time to the here and now.
It’s also harder to trust when we get older. We’ve made mistakes in past interactions that can make us reluctant to share the more intimate parts of ourselves. Maybe, we simply have less time now to listen to other people’s problems. Even worse, it becomes more difficult to care. The opportunity cost of caring rises exponentially when you factor in your limited time, all your personal responsibilities, and the potential risks that arise from emotional commitment. (Will they list you as their emergency contact? Things could escalate really quickly.) Real friendships are no longer convenient. Being emotional isn’t convenient.
Maybe this inability to get to the bottom of our emotions is what leads us to pursue transient friendships. Our propensity for loneliness has allowed technology to replace so many of our social functions, from emailing to inquire instead of calling, to dating online instead of meeting in person. We hide behind a façade, delivering a 30-second elevator pitch instead of engaging in honest conversation. This type of social isolation results from self-imposed loneliness. In the extreme, this can be what pushes rich individuals to seek professional companionship. They are disconnected from normal societal interactions and have sealed their problems away from the average person, so much so that their only avenue to more meaningful social interaction is through the impersonal transaction of money. By closing themselves off, they have closed off the possibility of connecting with another person.
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There was one time last semester where I had an emotional crash of a first conversation. Within five minutes of the exchange, I started discussing the identity politics of being a Chinese diaspora and my personal experiences with people’s lack of awareness. For some reason, I still get questions along the lines of “where are you really from,” despite my American accent and passport and my lifelong habitation in cosmopolitan cities.
I must have gone on for ten emotionally heated minutes when I realized I was talking to someone I barely met. Pausing myself, I apologized for my overly familiar outburst. He told me that it was fine, that he enjoyed meaningful conversations. He seemed earnest and he might have meant it. But instead of feeling emotionally understood or less lonely, I just felt uncomfortable.
So maybe friendships require emotional risks, but they definitely also take time to arrange themselves into what we’re seeking.