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Samantha Morrow '11 is still not sure whether to stay on the meal plan in her senior year, she told the check-out guy at her hometown grocery store, her six-year-old sister, and her mother's bridge partners all summer long.
"I don't think too many seniors are going to stay on the meal plan," she said, typically in the ninth hour of this conversation with anyone who would listen. "But then again, the Ratty is kind of like the town square. What if I don't see anyone? What if I don't get invited to parties?"
"Yes, parties. Why do you look so surprised? I have an active social life. One weekend last year I had - count 'em - four Facebook invitations to different events," Morrow said adorably, as if Facebook invitations mean anything.
"Of course, I ended up not going to any of them because I didn't want to walk in alone and not know anyone there," she added. "But, you know, I really wanted to do my laundry that night and watch whichever season of Arrested Development is on Hulu and re-read Spotted at Brown posts just to imagine that there is love in the world."
She continued, explaining that it had also been high time she'd gone down to the vending machine for some candy and had to hide behind the vending machine when she heard people coming in the building because she was ashamed to be in her pajamas at 10:30 on Saturday night.
"I don't think I'll want to cook for myself alone every night," she said, literally boring her summer colleagues to tears. "Sure, some people take turns cooking with friends, but then you have to eat with the same people every night and all have the same schedule and I'm not sure who I'd do it with."
When pressed, Morrow insisted that she "hang[s] out with, you know, lots of different people from here and there, not like 'one group of friends.'"
Nightly dinners, she complained repeatedly and annoyingly, are simply something that people do with their makeshift families of best friends. Morrow also dislikes nights she says people particularly gravitate towards these friend-families, such as New Year's Eve, Halloween, and Saturdays.
When asked about the precise identity of her "friends," she cited a couple female acquaintances from her freshman unit, one too-nice-to-say-no guy she met in section, and several unlucky couples to whom she is a frequent third-wheel.
Morrow is faced with what she calls "a really tough choice between home-cooked independent adulthood" - handfuls of dry Honey Nut Cheerios, an unrinsed can of black beans poured over mostly-cooked rice, or Clif bars purchased at the SciLi - "and the quintessential college dining hall social experience" - slinking around the Ratty with a take-out container, avoiding eye contact with absolutely everyone because she assumes they'll be judge her for being at the Ratty alone, and rushing home to eat alone while reading strangers' blogs.
"Luckily I have until September 22 to decide, so I guess I'll just get to campus and see what my friends are doing," she announced, like anyone gave a fuck.
When her named acquaintances were informed of Morrow's plight, one glanced at the other and said quietly, "Should we, like, call Psych Services?"
