Do you ever reminisce about that certain sparkling September of first-year brought into your life? You were excited to make friends, go to the frats with them, perhaps even to the clurrrb if your fake IDs were real-looking enough. You could just feel one of those racially diverse college-brochure friend groups on your horizon. You were gonna have “an awesome time, drink awesome shooters, and listen to awesome music and you were all going to soak up each other's awesomeness.”
thousand-yard stare
Fast forward 39 weeks’ worth of courses and over $100 on overpriced Blue Chip matcha lattes later.
You’ve survived group projects.
You’ve survived people asking for your IG just to never speak to you ever again.
You’ve been ghosted by at least three lab partners.
Let’s face it: the Vancouver social scene tantalizes you no more …
You’re sick of it! The small talk, the social climbers, the yappers. At this point, you’re not going into every term all #FriendshipIsMagic, you’re lowkey just tryna make it to Sunday. You know it’s bad, especially, when you can't tell what you encounter at UBC more: men who dilly-dally about their dating lives, or yet another r/UBC Reddit post about someone feeling lonely. Attending lectures for the iClicker attendance is hard enough, so here’s Ubyssey humour’s guide on avoiding making new friends in lecture halls at all costs.
Socially isolating seat selection
Pick either the end of a row for an easy escape post-class, or sit at the very front of the lecture hall. Everyone hates tryhards. Keep raising your hand and asking ridiculously irrelevant questions that the professor will 100 per cent geek out about. Brownie points if your question starts with “According to your premise, wouldn’t it logically follow that…” or something of that sort, and double brownie points if the prof loses track of time and holds the class overtime. Hatred of your peers? Check.
‘Omg same! Can I get your insta?’
Instagram’s lame. I hate Mark Zuckerberg’s haircut just as much as you do.
They ask for your IG? The answer’s simple: say you only use Google Hangouts, or give them your phone number but it’s actually just the AMS’ marketing guy: (604)-822-1961.
If they ask for your Snapchat (shudder), say you’re neither 12 nor a predator (trust me, this works — it’s my favourite one-liner to use when a guy on Hinge asks for my Snap).
Plug your ears
Earphones (I am intentionally not saying Airpods because I hate consumerism just as much as I hate lecture hall ‘friends’ — just go with it), earbuds, headphones, 2001 Audi s4 CV axle grease, I do not care. The only thing I do care about is that you have to look like you don’t care. If someone taps on your shoulder and tries to socialize, you must very nonchalantly and smugly say — *insert Flynn Rider smolder* — ‘Sorry, what?' Make sure your RBF is all-encompassing, the bitchiness should be drawn from the depths of your soul, then actualized and manifested in every physical sense.
I am become bath and body works (scent sensitivity is for liberal sissies)
You’re gonna want to rock excessive amounts of gourmand perfume — in the pits, in the scalp, in the mouth (like in the cartoons). I recommend buying those huge Bath and Body Works gift boxes (browsing the website for that hyperlink was enough to give me a headache) with matching lotion, soap and body spray. Take your pick of scents, be it “tropical vacay-STUN!” or “apple pie pussy.” If you’re like me and you lowkey don’t want to burn your eyes, simply just do without deodorant of any kind. Make sure to wear a 100 per cent polyester shirt — it really locks in the scent.
Since you’ve made it this far, dear reader, and I’ve been told I'm very charitable — here’s a bonus tip: If someone asks what your faculty is, say Sauder.
And there you have it! Your foolproof way to avoid making friends in lecture halls. Despite what you hear on Reddit, you might still have people aching to be in your company because of your elite suaveness, duh (get away from me). In any case, without friends, you’ll have way more time to focus on why you’re actually attending class: to scan the lecture hall for any guys with cat-femboy potential.
