Unlovable

By the time I'd wrapped up my three years of high school, I took for granted that my good friends were people who knew me well. Many of them I'd known since 7th or 8th grade, most others for nearly as long. Even the relative 'late-comers' were usually friends of friends before becoming my friends, i.e. there was a certain degree of familiarity already established. At the very least, we had our high school experience in common. So after six years of cultivating relationships among a more or less set group of people, starting afresh at college has been quite the shock. It'd been over a year since I had made a truly "new" friend. Not to say that my relationships with certain people hadn't changed or grown dramatically in the past months, but I'd not consistently been with anyone who didn't already have a fair idea of my background.

Thus, I had grown quite used to people knowing where I was coming from in our everyday interactions. For instance, if I made an off-color remark, my friends (usually) knew that I was joking and meant no offense. If I 'hit on' a guy friend, or talked up a buddy's girl, everyone was fully aware this was in jest. In talking about my somewhat depressive past, my friends already knew about my prior troubles. In the course of becoming and then acting so familiar with my closest acquaintances, I picked up mannerisms that, to someone who doesn't know me well, must seem quite strange. Hell, even those same good friends could sometimes regard me as a little off-kilter. But to them, this behavior wasn't particularly foreign; the idiosyncrasies were quite apparent, but far from unfamiliar. And, to my infinite gratitude and appreciation, they put up with and embraced all of this like champs.

Now I find myself surrounded by entirely new people, and yet I haven't fallen out of these habits of familiarity. Starting in at college, I didn't/couldn't consciously revert to being a stranger after having finally established deep, abiding friendships with some of the most fantastic people I could ever hope to meet. This isn't to say I've entirely lost my penchant for being shy and unapproachable, but with those whom I have become friends thus far, I can't help but act the way I do around my buddies back home. Considering I met these fine folks a scant three weeks ago, I have to imagine my conduct must often seem awkward. In fact, I can do better than imagine; the frequent quizzical glances and uncomfortable inquiries directed my way make it abundantly clear that it is. Having now realized my 'mistake,' it may be too late to scale back, but even if it isn't, I'm not sure I want to, nor, upon reflection, do I particularly regret my approach. In the past I was far too guarded about who I was and how I felt, and this intentional distance left me in some pretty dire emotional straits. If I've now become "obvious" due to increased openness, well, that can and should be amended a bit, but it certainly hasn't hurt my mood. I no longer relish being the silent, mysterious, and (ostensibly) wise one, and thankfully I don't think I'll ever be able to go back. Those wonderful people I'm lucky enough to call friends wrenched me open; nothing and no one is gluing me shut. To Pete, John, Jake, Shannon, Conor, Ian, and the gang, a big thank you for how much you all have transformed my life; I'm just now starting to truly realize and appreciate what a blessing you guys have been. To my new friends and to those I have yet to meet, I apologize for the awkwardness, but remember, "If I seem a little strange, well, that's because I am."