So the start of college brings along with it amazing new experiences. We meet our old friends and find them to be just how we left them at the beginning of summer. We meet our other old friends with new hairstyles, new bags, new attitudes. We meet old acquaintances, and turns out, they are so similar to us, its surprising we weren't best friends since forever. We meet new people and suddenly we are one huge group of dysfunctionals that the chatwallah finds amusing *pride*.
And then we 'spot' people we would like to know. Crushes or otherwise. We try to find out stuff about them, get some mutual friends, find out whether they are single, then don't care anyway. We send them requests, stalk them (a little), smile at them every time they pass us in the corridors, in the foyer, and in classes; not knowing whether they've got any idea or whether they care. And then, we wait.
One fine day, we see them online. And our heart starts racing.
We quickly arrange our profile pictures. Then we wonder whether it is right to send a message first. They probably don't know that we exist, their 1009 or so friends on the friend-list suggest that. Their 50 albums and 800 pictures with a million different people, their thousands of wall posts and their hundreds of game requests show that you are probably just a fly on the windshield that is their Facebook profile. Pfrrt, Facebook.
Why make the first move though? Once guys know that you want to talk to them, they ignore you. Or so I've been told.
But wasn't it us who spotted them first? Isn't it only practical to say hi and make our existence known rather than simply assuming?
And then, it takes every ounce of courage we have left at 9.30 pm, after a freakishly long, tiring day to commit this act of social suicide. Send a message. To a senior. A hot senior.
And then we do.
A few minutes later, no reply. We feel like a fool. And then, they go offline.
The first move is then the first of many other first moves, and each brings about a feeling of elation along with a dollop of self-loathing. Like cheating on your 3-month long diet with a whole bar of chocolate. You can't help feeling good about something so letting down, so condescending, so greatly disempowering. And the best argument we've got: It's only a 'hi'.
Maybe 'hi' is not worth it. Maybe it is.
But then, the first move is where it all begins. *signs off dreamily*
And then we 'spot' people we would like to know. Crushes or otherwise. We try to find out stuff about them, get some mutual friends, find out whether they are single, then don't care anyway. We send them requests, stalk them (a little), smile at them every time they pass us in the corridors, in the foyer, and in classes; not knowing whether they've got any idea or whether they care. And then, we wait.
One fine day, we see them online. And our heart starts racing.
We quickly arrange our profile pictures. Then we wonder whether it is right to send a message first. They probably don't know that we exist, their 1009 or so friends on the friend-list suggest that. Their 50 albums and 800 pictures with a million different people, their thousands of wall posts and their hundreds of game requests show that you are probably just a fly on the windshield that is their Facebook profile. Pfrrt, Facebook.
Why make the first move though? Once guys know that you want to talk to them, they ignore you. Or so I've been told.
But wasn't it us who spotted them first? Isn't it only practical to say hi and make our existence known rather than simply assuming?
And then, it takes every ounce of courage we have left at 9.30 pm, after a freakishly long, tiring day to commit this act of social suicide. Send a message. To a senior. A hot senior.
And then we do.
A few minutes later, no reply. We feel like a fool. And then, they go offline.
The first move is then the first of many other first moves, and each brings about a feeling of elation along with a dollop of self-loathing. Like cheating on your 3-month long diet with a whole bar of chocolate. You can't help feeling good about something so letting down, so condescending, so greatly disempowering. And the best argument we've got: It's only a 'hi'.
Maybe 'hi' is not worth it. Maybe it is.
But then, the first move is where it all begins. *signs off dreamily*
