Antisocialitism, you say?

So the other day, I had my first house guests here in my Queens apartment. For those of you who thought that I wasn't "cool" enough to drum up a solid friend base here in New York, well just listen up. My charisma and gregarious charm naturally attract and draw people to me, in case you hadn't already noticed. The other day I had a little get-together with a couple of these newly acquired "BFsF," Elder Chamberlain and Elder Chase. (Yeah, they're missionaries. What of it? I take what I can get.)

It was actually the first time that I had sat down and talked to missionaries after I got back from my own mission one year and four months ago. I felt like my world had imploded, leaving me on the far side of the nametag and pavement-thrashed shoes. But I won't get into that because I fall into "I'm a spiritual failure" mode, comparing my intern self to my mission self. Whatever though.

What I also realized is that I don't have a social life (other than the Elders and a couple of gracious BYU-Idahoans also here in NY). Although this is not significantly different than any other period of my life, it's different this time because I feel like I don't have a choice. You know, in high school, as long as you fish low enough in the social barrel, you can find someone to befriend you. You know, the AP Calculus and marching band kids. But here, it is not so easy. First of all, I live in Queens. It is a lovely neighborhood, but I think that I am the only non-Spanish- or non-Hindi-speaking person here. I of course have nothing against diversity, but it becomes problematic with a language barrier securely on all sides.

Also, living here in Queens, I am kind of detached from the Manhattan mainstream. Granted, I am only a 20-minute subway shot away, but the boroughs define not only geographic boundaries, but also social ones. There is somewhat of a sentiment of a superiority/inferiority/separatism that plagues us here. Kind of like how everyone at The Ridge is too (quasi-) rebellious for the rest of the riff-raff at BYU-I. And how everyone at Colonial House is too Utahan and everyone at Arcadia is too frugal, etc. On top of that, consider that there are only singles wards in Manhattan, and not in Queens. Again, not an excuse in and of itself, but it is all part of the larger excuse equation.

Check out my co-workers. They socialize, but do so by drinking (more accurately categorized as "getting sloshed"), which is hardly social if you don't drink (which I don't. Well, only DP). My roommates do the same, only for extended periods of time (Stu's nights on the town last at least 36 hours. His endurance amazes me). Sobriety is a prize too great to sacrifice for a stint as a socialite. Or so they tell me.

In the end, a social life in its purest sense is hard to find. I have the luxury of not having to worry about it too much because I am only here for three months. I will then go back to BYU-I for one more semester, where socializing is as easy as compulsively laughing at inappropriate moments. After 14 weeks of extensive flurries of social activity (or more accurately, 14 weeks of deferred social opportunity), it will then be over. I will come back here to New York for the rest of my immediate life, and I will have to either come to terms with my situation or just complain about it in blogs that no one reads. Either way, I will be a better man for it.