An Average SPARKling Weekend

Over the last weekend, first year BCom students conveyed at school in ludicrously named cliques to compete for the Sauder Cup. After only three days of real school, we were expected to be friendly and comfortable with each other, like reunited bosom friends. The fact that my orientation leader talked about how she met all of her baes at The Spark a few years ago only increased the pressure to walk away with a lifelong partner by the end of the event.

Needless to say, that didn’t happen.

Being not exactly the most outgoing person, I wasn’t exactly inclined to open my hearts to strangers. Yet, despite knowing my personal limitations, it was disappointing to not find anyone to whom I was immediately drawn while everyone else partnered up. While I was not exactly antagonized or isolated by anyone, and the group dynamic was typical of the chemistry between ten keen first years, the experience was lacklustre at best for most of the day.

Then came the mosh pit.

I hate mosh pits, and any other environment that requires me to touch other people (the photographer for my high school group photos had to coax my friends and I into putting our arms around each other). Needless to say, I did not have a good time and went home early.

On Monday, I was nervous. In my mind, everyone would be sitting with their bff’s from The Spark, leaving me to be the weird antisocial loner. However, the phenomenon I observed was completely different. Sure, people seemed to be more at ease with each other, but no one was desperately clinging to the one person they met during the weekend. As the week progressed, more and more friendships formed outside of the limits of the groups at The Spark, until all of the bullshit expectations crammed into the weekend were forgotten to be replaced by the slow process of creating real relationships. Although I was not amused by my lucklessness in finding a soulmate, I, after two weeks, am now somewhat confident that I will not have my face be eaten by my cats after I die.

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