Uncrowded Fraternity

It's start of term and suddenly I'm transported back to my first days of uni, when I was younger, more naive and less cynical. It's strange how you can get caught up in the atmosphere of being surrounded by hundreds of new students and suddenly regress several years. I'd forgotten how care-free you can feel when you're full of hope and promise and haven't yet grasped the financial responsibility you'll face in a few years. I'd also forgotten how cool it is getting a student discount on so many things and just how much free stuff one can get at a Freshers' Fair!

But my favourite part of the day had to be seeing in-house 'celebrity' Robert Winston (whose official title, I have discovered, is the rather grand 'Professor the Lord Winston'), walking amidst the hustle and bustle of Freshers' Week, looking bemused and somewhat out of place among the fresh-faced youths with his senior and mustachioed self. His recognisable frame stood out from the crowd to me, but at the same time I could see he could simultaneously manage to remain rather inconspicuous. Better still was the reaction of two students he walked right past: one recognised him a split second later and stopped the other in his tracks so that they could turn back and get a better look, all the while explaining to his friend, "It's him! You know, him! Off the telly!" Their excited faces were a picture and they continued on, with a heartfelt exclamation of "I love that guy", that made it impossible for me not to grin at them.

[See this article in the Telegraph for a fascinating insight into Robert Winston and a pic!]

Later, the day's wait for the bus home saw me surrounded by little gangs of students of all ages and nationalities. Teenagers fresh from classes at the English National Ballet, walking with perfectly out-turned feet, discussing the day's lessons and practising leg extenstions while maintaining impeccable posture. A Spaniard, mid-cigarette, discussing upcoming events at the Royal Albert Hall with his Chinese companion, before getting on a bus with her. Three Japanese students discussing bus routes with some Scandinavian acquaintances. An undergraduate couple, cuddling and giggling, while playing RnB out of their mobile phone and attempting to dance. It was fascinating to people-watch, especially such a diverse bunch, all full of start-of-term excitement.

However, all this frivolity and fraternity sometimes makes me a little sad. There's something about seeing groups of people that always make me feel pathetically like I'm on the outside. Being the lone singleton amongst the collective masses seems to give me that feeling that I'm missing out on something, am on the fringes, an outsider. I don't really know why. I have my insecurities, but I'm not especially insecure. I'm not even a particularly jealous person. I have a few wonderful friendships with individuals that don't know each other, that are cultivated on a one-to-one basis. I think I probably function better in one-to-one, or at least small group situations. I don't always like having to compete for attention, to be heard, to chip in my two pence. But even so, there seems to be this odd longing I feel to be part of a big group of friends. I can't really figure out why. I had a small taste of it during Sixth Form, until the competitiveness of others got in the way and I realised I didn't really fit in. The person I took 'refuge' in is still someone I consider a good friend, although our communication is mutually sporadic. The closest I've got to being part of a gang lately, was with my friends from my old workplace. We still see each other now and then and share a sense of humour with certain things that I haven't found with another group quite so closely since. Even so, there's always the sense that I'm a bit different.

My Boy has a huge group of male and female friends that he has known, in the majority, since he was young. He's mentioned that they're like his family. They've grown up together, they love each other. Because of geographical reasons, I haven't met his friends yet. He tells me that they will love me, that they're a great bunch of people. They certainly seem so. But while I find it incredibly endearing and admirable, I'm also incredibly intimidated by it and in some ways a little jealous. It's not that I don't like meeting new people. I do get a little shy and awkward when I'm out of my comfort zone and around people I don't know, but I usually manage to hold my own. But it seems to take me a long while to feel and act like myself, in a big group. Yet for some reason, I still seem to have the recurring wish I was part of one.

My ex had a big group of male friends, from school days too. Although they are a great bunch of guys, I remember it taking me ages to feel completely comfortable around them. I have awkward memories of feeling uncomfortable to the point of tears, once or twice. I still don't quite understand why! I still get embarassed thinking about how odd/rude/aloof I must have come across, until they got to know me. Another good male friend of mine has the same big group of friends since school times, and I've always admired the long-standing nature and endurance of the friendships. Perhaps it is easier for big groups of guys to stay friends, than it is for big groups of girls? I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on that. I think I'll leave that gender debate for another post.

Maybe one day, when I do meet the Boy's big gang of friends, I'll have shaken off my insecurities of not fitting in. Maybe by then, I'll even have discovered the cause of my weird aversion/attraction to close-knit groups of people. Maybe I'll know for sure that I'm not necessarily missing out on anything. After all, the thing I've always cherished about my friendships is the quality of them, not the quantity. Some people hide out in crowds because they are too insecure to open up on an individual basis. In any case, I know it's just as easy to be part of the it-crowd and still feel completely alone. It's somehow even worse to be lonely when in a group. For all my insecurities, at least I have that going for me. I might be a loner sometimes, but I'm not lonely.