I get by with a little help from my friends.

So on the last night of last semester, I walk into the Blobby at about one in the morning and sit down in an armchair in the middle of the room. I immediately stand up and relocate to one of the couches along the wall. I don’t like having my back to anyone in a lobby like that; I like seeing who comes and who goes. It’s something I’ve always done. Anyway, since I got a couple weird looks, by way of explanation, I go, “So my enemies can’t sneak up behind me and strangle me with piano wire or something.”

A couple people laugh, but Evan Kornacki looks over at me and says, “Enemies? Matt Jones doesn’t have any enemies. You’re one of the most diplomatically kind people I’ve ever met.”

I had a realization then, something that didn’t really surprise me but that I had never consciously thought about before. My biggest fear is being hated. As such, I make it a point to be nice to everyone. I’m nice to my friends. I’m nice to strangers. I’m nice to cashiers. I’m even nice to people that I don’t like because I don’t want them to not like me back. I want to be a good friend, the nice guy, the dependable one that everyone can smile at and say hi to and talk to. I don’t like the idea of people talking bad about me behind my back or leaving a room as soon as I enter it. I just don’t.

This conception of myself was further realized during the Rome trip. The fifteen of us quickly divided into two groups, not because people didn’t like each other, but just because of different interests and personality types. Not liking the idea of being left out of anything, I made it a point to be a solid member of both groups. My Organizational Communications professor from last semester would have called me a “bridge” or a “liaison.” I was careful to get in a good amount of face time with each group, see what each was up to on any given night, and go from there. Everyone else came to recognize my status over the course of the trip, and people from each group would ask me about the other one. “What do they say about us?” a girl from one group asked me once. “Why don’t they ever hang out with us?” asked a guy from the other. I provided diplomatic answers, not disrespecting anyone or putting words in anyone’s mouth (I hope). I was a different person depending on whom I was hanging out with, varying my topics of conversation and even, on occasion, my personality to fit the tastes of my present company.

Instead of making twice as many great friends, though, I came to feel that I was stretching myself too thin. I was so busy playing politics that no one in either group got a chance to really know me. I was a peripheral friend, in limbo, not fully integrating myself into any group at all. Not that I really care (and I’m not just saying this, it really doesn’t keep me up at night), but I was kind of, sort of, semi-halfway hoping that I’d walk into my surprise 21st birthday party on the last day of the trip. It didn’t happen, probably because each group figured they didn’t know me well enough and thought the other group would do it. I continued to kind of, sort of, semi-halfway hope that someone would throw me a party within a couple weeks of me getting back home (‘cause you can’t plan your own birthday party, that’s just depressing), but again, no dice, I’d guess for the same reason.

I know that there’s a place for a guy like me, especially in a dorm setting, where rubbing someone the wrong way once results in an entire year of awkward situations and drama. But in my need to be universally liked (or, at least, not despised), I find myself with too many casual acquaintances and not enough good friends. There aren’t many people that I feel I know well enough, or that know me well enough, that I can show up at their door without calling first or call on a random weekday afternoon just because, you know, I’m bored.

Anyway, almost all of my friends from last year have moved off-campus, and I’m still here. I can’t just run into them in the hallway and hang out with them because they’re there anymore; I have to make it a point to get in touch with them and see what their schedules are or what they’re doing this weekend. It seems that, over the coming weeks, I’ll quickly discover who I actually liked and who were just friends of convenience. There are a lot of people I saw every day for the past two years that I might never talk to again, something that I’m not necessarily happy about but can live with. Again, just like in my previous post, that’s life, I guess. It happens.

This year, as an RA, I can’t be everyone’s friend anymore. Since I’m ostensibly in a position of authority, I have to start telling people to not do stuff, write people up, yell at them, etc. Stuff that I tolerated, partook in, laughed at during freshman and sophomore years, I now have to bust up with a stern look on my face so they know that I’m serious. More than one freshman (and, who knows, maybe a couple sophomores) might think I’m a douche. The easiest way to deal with it is to separate myself from them, not make friends with people I’m in charge of, but I honestly don’t know if I can do that. I think that’s going to be the hardest part of this job for me. We’ll see how it goes.

Seperately, as a side note, I can’t help but notice that the only three comments I’ve ever gotten on here are from a random girl gushing over a passing reference to Idina Menzel, DJ responding to that comment, and a spambot. This blog is for me, it’s always been for me, but I’d like to think that I’m not the only one who’s ever read anything I’ve written. I’m not asking for a detailed critique or anything, but if you happen to read this, I was wondering if you’d post a comment with your name or something. I just want to know who my audience is, if I have one at all.