Summer-Camp Sadness: Meditations on Friend-Making

The panic has begun.

Seniors forming allyships based on the cities they’ll be in post-graduation. Visitas pre-frosh posting selfies with friends they won’t talk to again. Fellow social-seniors creating group chats to scramble together facsimiles of the soon-to-be-graduated social circles we’ve built over the past four years.

In short, at pivotal life moments, when we or others move on, it’s like the first week of summer camp all over again: politicking around until we construct secure social networks to assuage our fears of being friendless.

I don’t mean to mock this worry. In fact, our yearning for social acceptance is rooted in our evolutionary desire to survive. And loneliness is a significant issue among today’s youth: A 2021 study noted that 61 percent of those aged 18-25 reported serious loneliness.

Still, I propose that we shouldn’t try to force social connections, and that we should instead accept more antisocial tensions to cultivate lasting friendships.

There’s nothing wrong with trying to find friends, yet constantly seeking new commitments may be part of what’s known as the “grass is greener syndrome” — the suspicion that there’s always a more socially rewarding event or cooler potential friend. Unfortunately, a possible repercussion of this anxiety is that we come to care more about the validation of warm bodies around us than actual connection with the personhood of others. So let’s take a breath and get to know one another — and not just swipe left to gather more options, Tinder-style.

We also can redirect our efforts if we sense we’re with unsuitable company. Loneliness isn’t the same as being alone – rather, it’s your perceived gap between the level of connectedness that you want and what you have, regardless of literal social contact. So while it’s reasonable to stick with a first hodge-podge posse in a new environment, I hope we don’t sacrifice genuine emotional connection for social safety.

Retrospectively, I cringe at how I used to force myself into situations where deep-down, I knew my connections didn’t click, from mistrials at Annenberg to summer internship evenings spent competing for conversation airtime. I realize now that even in large groups, I was lonely since I didn’t vibe with the people around me — and that I sometimes would’ve been happier in my own company.

Of course, we should still approach potential new friends! I just hope to remind us that we don’t have to pressure ourselves into social molds – which is hard when others seem to have idyllic social lives or super-tight friend units, like those that charted through pandemics and spring breaks together.

But I think of how I’ve stumbled upon my cherished friendships, one-by-one, over many years — through literary magazines, technology clubs, and random events. Friendships aren’t a scarce resource we’re competing for on a finite timeline: We should take time, and have so much time, to plant and tend to them, in a way that works for us.

Moreover, to cultivate lasting friendships, I suggest we welcome antisocial tensions. Of course, we shouldn’t condone problematic behavior. But we also shouldn’t avoid addressing friction in friendships — especially because maturely raising issues signals emotional trust and a desire to invest in that relationship long-term. In fact, a 2012 study revealed that participants who engaged in open, non-blaming conversations experienced deeper relationship intimacy than those who didn’t.

So in the past year, even though I’m conflict-avoidant, I’ve tried to better invite and respond to thoughts about me as a friend, like when I haven’t been as proactive as I should. I’ve also grown better at expressing my opinion, like when my health or introvertedness means I can’t meet someone’s social needs.

And honestly? Sometimes we have to prioritize ourselves over social harmony — which can clash with the notion of being a “good person.” Case in point: I distance myself from people who, even if friendly, only suggest hangouts in a networky, oh-right-you-exist vibe. Another example: I am often mentally and physically drained and forget to reply to messages, which then devolves into a vicious cycle of guilt at not replying and fear of replying. But I’m glad I’m aware of it, so when I do have capacity, I can strive to be a kinder person, one message at a time.

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At the end of day, we’re simple creatures: We want to be seen and to see others. We inevitably go through summer-camp phases to figure out how we fit into each others’ lives, if at all. Sometimes, we slip through the cracks and find ourselves alone, but as long as we put our genuine energy into the world, I believe we’ll cross paths with the right people. (Honestly, I feel so lucky to have found such good people in my life, that maybe I shouldn’t be dispensing any friend-making advice).

I hope to not feel lonely after my friends graduate. I hope to take care of myself. I hope to be a good person to my loved ones. Yet I know I might compromise my individuality to fit in, I might ignore my needs due to academic or social pressures, and that I won’t always be a 100 percent perfect human.

I want to hold these hopes and hypocrisies, and live as genuinely and compassionately as I can. I’d love for you to join me (and perhaps grab a coffee sometime).

Vanessa B. Hu ‘23-24 is a junior in Currier House studying Computer Science. Her column, “Hopes and Hypocrisies,” runs on alternate Mondays.