On uni mates
Two events this weekend triggered this blog post. I spent a wonderful weekend in Liverpool with my uni mates, and Phil's little sister, Suzie, moved into her halls, coincidentally in Liverpool, to start her university life...
They probably won't happen right away.
Or at least, not completely.
It probably won't be your housemates, or the people who live across the way, or the people on your course.
It probably won't happen in freshers' week. Or even at all in your first year.
Maybe it will take a year, or even more.
They'll be odds and ends of friends of friends and people you meet.
Maybe you'll meet one on Facebook weeks before you start uni, but will be too nervous to say Hi in real life until Christmas.
Maybe you'll meet another in a seminar that was actually their third choice and you'll bond over fish finger sandwiches and Glamour magazine and instantly become best friends.
Maybe you'll find out that one of them was on the same My Chemical Romance forum as you in 2006 and they recognised your pink hair in freshers' week.
Maybe you'll meet two best friends at a joint birthday party part way through your second year.
You won't know when it will happen, but soon you'll be inseparable.
Every night out will be planned together. Every predrinks. Every getting ready. Every pre-night-out shopping trip. Every library date and coffee shop break and lecture and essay hand in.
You'll be from all over the country. You'll argue about how to pronounce "grass" and "bath" and what you call a bread roll.
You'll all be completely different but you'll have more in common than any friends you'e ever known before.
These are your soul mates. And you're in it for the long haul.
These are your friends for life. And it won't matter when you all disperse across the country when you graduate. You'll send epic texts to catch up and arrange meet ups as often as you can.
You'll worry you're growing apart. You'll worry it will feel different. You'll feel sad when you can't make a catch up, or when you're the furthest away and you miss out on being nearby.
But you'll figure it out. You'll make it work. You'll arrive and nothing will be different.
Just instead of talking about boys and essays and exams and studying, you'll talk about mortgages and careers and live-in partners and holidays.
You'll reminisce about your days at uni, but you won't miss them in the same way.
And you'll go out to celebrate 27th birthdays and party like it's 2008 again.
And everything will change but nothing will change and even five years after graduation, when you realise you've been friends after uni longer than you were ever at uni together.
And you'll be sad when you say goodbye. You'll miss seeing each other every day and the constant night outs and intense friendships at university. You'll miss talking every day.
But dates will go in diaries and weekends will be kept free and whether it's in two months or three months or six, you'll be there again, with new stories and news and everything is the same again. Except you can't wear your high heels all night like you did when you were 20 and now you drink prosecco instead of £2 double vodkas and you just can't hack it like you used to.
And everything will change, but nothing will have changed at all.
Or at least, not completely.
It probably won't be your housemates, or the people who live across the way, or the people on your course.
It probably won't happen in freshers' week. Or even at all in your first year.
Maybe it will take a year, or even more.
They'll be odds and ends of friends of friends and people you meet.
Maybe you'll meet one on Facebook weeks before you start uni, but will be too nervous to say Hi in real life until Christmas.
Maybe you'll meet another in a seminar that was actually their third choice and you'll bond over fish finger sandwiches and Glamour magazine and instantly become best friends.
Maybe you'll find out that one of them was on the same My Chemical Romance forum as you in 2006 and they recognised your pink hair in freshers' week.
Maybe you'll meet two best friends at a joint birthday party part way through your second year.
Every night out will be planned together. Every predrinks. Every getting ready. Every pre-night-out shopping trip. Every library date and coffee shop break and lecture and essay hand in.
You'll be from all over the country. You'll argue about how to pronounce "grass" and "bath" and what you call a bread roll.
You'll all be completely different but you'll have more in common than any friends you'e ever known before.
These are your friends for life. And it won't matter when you all disperse across the country when you graduate. You'll send epic texts to catch up and arrange meet ups as often as you can.
But you'll figure it out. You'll make it work. You'll arrive and nothing will be different.
You'll reminisce about your days at uni, but you won't miss them in the same way.
And you'll go out to celebrate 27th birthdays and party like it's 2008 again.
And you'll be sad when you say goodbye. You'll miss seeing each other every day and the constant night outs and intense friendships at university. You'll miss talking every day.
But dates will go in diaries and weekends will be kept free and whether it's in two months or three months or six, you'll be there again, with new stories and news and everything is the same again. Except you can't wear your high heels all night like you did when you were 20 and now you drink prosecco instead of £2 double vodkas and you just can't hack it like you used to.
And everything will change, but nothing will have changed at all.
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