I tried Yogurt Park for the first time the other day. I ordered a small vanilla yogurt topped with cookie dough, and I didn’t even finish half of it. I thought the line was ridiculously long, but regardless, I enjoyed my $5 yogurt.
I shared my yogurt with a close friend. She is studying abroad next semester, so I cherish every rare time we hang out. She and my other two close friends are committee co-directors of a club we are in. Throughout a typical week, we spend a ton of time together. Apart from mandatory two-hour committee meetings and one-hour general meetings, we also take time to have puzzle nights and casual hangouts.
Yet once this semester is over, one of us will study abroad, the other will join the executive board of our club and I’ll step away from the club to enjoy my last semester. This is a conversation that we’ve begrudgingly discussed more than once. While this does not by any means signify the end of our friendship, it does mark the end of an increasingly comfortable dynamic.
Our college friend groups are among the most meaningful takeaways from our time as students. If you’re an introvert like me, warming up to people may take a while. However, once you do, those friendships are all the more valuable.
Changing dynamics are never welcomed, especially when you know they’re inevitable. In the several months before my last day of work, I couldn’t wait to clock out for the last time. However, just a couple of days before my last shift, the fear and longing to stay suddenly crept in — fear of change, and longing for those days when all I gave a s—t about was who bought the beers and if my buddy Adrian would drink more than one and a half.
These changes are painful but necessary. There is a pain because you have to reconcile with the fact that the dynamics won’t be the same, or that the friend group is over altogether. Yet it’s also necessary, because while the future may not be better or worse than the past, the timing may be right anyway.
Genuine friendships are deeply meaningful to me.
Friendships born out of convenience seem hollow and a waste of my time. Convenient friends linger around you at club meetings or find time in the absence of any alternatives. They might ask, “Why don’t we hang out more?” But I feel that question is only asked to fill the potential void of awkward silence. Real friends send each other the daily Wordle from The New York Times and make fun of mutual acquaintances with you.
I always look for answers or tell myself comforting things to find the motivation to move forward after this change. I recently found comfort in a surprisingly bleak reminder of loss while watching comedian Louis C.K.’s self-titled comedy show “Louis.”
In one episode, C.K. deals with a recent breakup and seeks the help of a therapist who can’t seem to remember his name.
The therapist sarcastically asks C.K.: “So, you took a chance at being happy, knowing later you would be sad, and now you’re sad?” He responds, “Yes, now I’m too sad.”
The therapist then explains to C.K. that he’s been looking at heartbreak all wrong. He tells C.K. that love isn’t being happy in the moment; instead, the heartbreak of missing that person is the essence of love. The difficult part is finally overcoming heartbreak, only to feel indifferent about them.
I see the parallels between the loss of romance and the loss of friendships. During the many times I’ve had a friend group fall out or grow apart, the following weeks certainly felt like a genuine loss. Yet grief seems to just be emblematic of the lasting love we had for our friends, and that is a comforting reminder that these relationships are worth pursuing.
While we lament all the missed opportunities with our friends throughout the years, finding comfort in that feeling of regret helps us appreciate that we had those friendships in the first place.
