I was eating lunch with a group of new friends in Newcomb dining hall at the beginning of last semester when they asked me the question that never fails to fill me with anxiety — “Do you want to go out with us this weekend?” The bite of pizza I took just before hardened in my mouth as stress stripped me of any appetite. After a few moments of awkward silence and hesitant chewing, I admitted that I had never gone out before. Their eyes widened and heads tilted, clearly wondering how I — a college student — had never been to a party.
Partying has never been my “thing.” I come from a small town in Northern Virginia where most people my age spend their weekends shopping at what I’m certain is the world’s smallest mall or driving to a nearby city just to find something to do. In high school, the “popular” kids threw house parties, but my friends and I were never a part of their friend group. Ultimately, I turned out to be a 20-year-old non-partier.
Don’t get me wrong. I have fun — just not in the way that other students might expect. My version of fun involves watching movies with friends and hosting intimate game nights, not going to frats or drinking alcohol like several of my peers. There is a simplicity to my college experience that I enjoy greatly and hardly ever regret. Still, whenever the topic of partying comes up, I feel embarrassed to admit that I don’t go out.
Now, in my third year, I have come to recognize that this embarrassment arises for several reasons. The most prominent is that partying is understood as an integral part of college culture.
I know this not only from the way that tv shows and movies portray college life, but also from the conversations I hear and engage in with friends. Just recently, as I was leaving class and preparing to spend my evening studying, I overheard a group of peers planning to go out later that night. In that moment — and in countless others since arriving at college — I felt like an outsider. A fish in a sea of sharks, as I often describe it.
I also can’t help but feel like an outsider — a fish, if you will — whenever I witness people bonding over various aspects of party culture. Numerous times, I have sat and listened to friends discuss their favorite and least favorite alcoholic drinks and their wildest drunken stories. In these moments, I nod and laugh along, all the while feeling incredibly disconnected from the conversation. Even so, I enjoy listening to my friends share their experiences, not only because they are entertaining, but also because their drinking horror stories reaffirm my decision to remain sober.
As a self-proclaimed fish, becoming friends with sharks is inevitable in college. It’s a swim-with-the-sharks-or-be-eaten kind of a thing. I’ve learned that these sorts of friendships only succeed when both people genuinely respect each other’s lifestyles. That respect means accepting that we may not always share the same interests or participate in the same activities. Attempting to change one another is neither effective, nor desirable, since true friendship requires allowing people to be fully themselves. Instead, mutual understanding and a willingness to find shared activities are what allow friendships between sharks and fishes to thrive.
While it has its challenges, being a fish also has its pros. For instance, choosing not to party has given me the time and space to explore hobbies that differ from what college culture might encourage, such as reading a book on a Saturday evening rather than pre-gaming. It has also encouraged me to make friends with people who share my quieter passions. In fact, my first-year roommate and I decided to room together because we both enjoyed the same hobbies and did not plan to party. She is now one of my best friends on Grounds.
Now, despite my own personal preferences, there is nothing wrong with being a shark. If having fun means going out, drinking and spending late nights with friends, that is completely valid. Finding like-minded people to spend time with is a special gift that should not be taken for granted. But to all the fish out there, I want to remind you that you are not alone. Choosing not to drink does not make your college experience any less meaningful, and it certainly does not make you any less of a “normal” college student.
Whether you are more of a shark or fish, I encourage you to define your college experience on your own terms. Discover the things that bring you the most happiness and pursue them, regardless of if they are deemed socially acceptable. I also encourage you to remain open to new experiences. While resisting pressure to conform is important, you might find that stepping outside your comfort zone brings you more joy than you initially assumed. Attend that new club meeting. Take a class you would not expect yourself to take. Maybe even give partying a shot one of these days — I might.
College is your ocean or whatever the saying is, so don’t forget to explore it. After all, we only have four years of this.
Read More
An ode to the train system
By Victoria Parage-Riboul | 5 days agoI’ve spent quite a few commutes on the Amtrak train — my ratty backpack and trusty duffle bag in tow.
Molly Isabella is sharing all Charlottesville has to eat one post at a time
By Ingrid Gay | 6 days agoFrom her phone, she runs the blog-style Instagram account @MealswithMolls, which has garnered over 8,000 followers by posting content that centers on Charlottesville’s multifaceted culinary world.
Under new management, Chabad at U.Va. reaches record attendance
By Claire McGinn | 6 days agoChabad at U.Va is an organization with the goal of fostering community and connection for the Jewish community on Grounds.
