PERSPECTIVE: Oh Warren! Oh Warren! You were once my humble abode

Last year, I had more friends than I knew what to do with. From the day I arrived on campus, I was meeting new people, dozens of them, every day. I was taking down phone numbers and communicating through Facebook.

It was the most liberating feeling in the world being a freshman. It was the only time in my life where I felt like I could walk up to a stranger, talk to them and possibly befriend them.

Warren Towers was like a club where no matter what time of the day or night, you could just walk out in the hall and hang out with someone familiar or meet someone new.

Being friends with all these random people sent me on all sorts of crazy adventures; climbing buildings in Cambridge, wine and cheese parties at Wellesley University and being made fun of by Wolfgang Puck in Boston.

Toward the end of the year, all this socializing started to get to me. I felt like I was getting very tired of being around people all the time. I started calling people less, accepting fewer invitations to do things and just trying to hang on until the end of the year.

I started leaving my door closed when I was in my room — a move that was not well received by my overly-social floor. Finally getting out was a relief, if nothing else, just because it allowed me to be alone for a little while.

But by the end of the summer, I was ready to start anew. I anxiously awaited entering a world where everyone was a potential friend, ready for a whole new round of crazy adventures. I moved in on the first early-move-in day, tacked my little white-board to my door — which I left wide open — and waited for the friend-making to begin.

Unfortunately, waiting was about all I did. The people never showed up; my white-board remained blank. What was the deal? Didn’t my new house-mates want to meet me?

Heck, I’d even settle for some random passers-by. But alas, it seemed no one wanted to be my friend this year.

I didn’t understand right away. I kept hoping that once more people moved in, things would pick up. I think I really figured things out when I stopped in to have lunch at Warren Towers. I went up the familiar escalators and got to the security gate. Suddenly, I found myself checking the time to make sure I could still be swiping in.

Were there really times of the day when I just wasn’t allowed inside my old home? Shields Tower may as well have been Hook’s Tower the way I saw it.

This realization just started the downward spiral. I handed my card to the person at the dining hall, someone new, someone who did not, in my head, have a catchy nickname based on their basic physical attributes and demeanor.

Where was Sassy Cuban Guy? Or Awkward Angry-Swipe? I stepped in to the dining hall that I had visited so many times before and immediately felt completely out of place. The entire cast of characters I’d grown to love so dearly had completely vanished, and now I was surrounded by an unfamiliar bunch of kids.

I don’t know how being a year younger makes them seem so little, but somehow it does.

At first, I was delighted to take advantage of all the new people in my hood. These kids knew nothing of how to time the line so that Mee Chow made their sandwich, instead of the other guy, whose sandwiches always fall apart.

They didn’t know the wonders of Sargent BBQ pizza, but being surrounded by such luxury, delicious pizza and a well made sandwich, just made me feel kind of bad.

Where was the triumph? Where was the thrill of victory? But most importantly, I had been in Warren for a full 20 minutes. Why had I not yet made any new friends?

I felt like everybody could tell. What’s this stupid sophomore doing in our building? Warren Towers was indeed the club I remembered it being, but I was no longer a member. I was merely a guest taking advantage of the “Free One-Year Trial” coupon.

But I guess that’s a little ridiculous. They hadn’t changed; I had. I hadn’t made awkward small talk over the broken ice machine, or asked a stranger where I might find some mustard.

I was no longer vulnerable to the social interactions that I had been last year.

I had moved on.

While at first, I was troubled by the secluded life I am now forced to lead, I eventually realized that I was never a social being, Warren Towers and its mighty force had just made me one. I’ve since reconnected with my friends from last year — at least some of them — and I am living happily, quietly, in a small dorm on Bay State Road.

I guess it’s the best of both worlds. I can still meet new people when I feel like taking the initiative, or I can sit alone at my desk writing sentimental prose about the good old days. These are happy days people; the truly happy days.