The Half of It | An SMS alert: forget me not!

Not all wake-up calls are made by hotel receptionists. I was greeted one morning by the eloquently T9-drafted, “Hey, it’s Dan from last night,” and accompanying invitation to a date party. After frantically trying to place this person among faces met, I tentatively concluded that Dan-from-last-night had been amiable, polite and forgettable. But more notably, I had conducted myself with no intention of remembering him throughout our unremarkable acquaintanceship. Am I a perpetrator of insouciant introductions and expendable interactions? Caught red-handed in the glow of my SMS sentence, I am forced to plead guilty.

At Penn, I find myself tiring of dispensable introductions and the casual conversations that follow. Worse, I increasingly catch myself carrying on in small social settings without taking time to introduce myself to the unfamiliar faces. It is not uncommon to hear the likes of, “It’s Anna, right?” followed by the response, “Anna works for tonight.”

Last year my friends and I spent a weekend at Bowdoin College, a New England campus characterized by sidewalk hello’s, cashier conversations and cars that prioritize pedestrians. In addition to the held doors and unprompted good morning’s, students at Bowdoin remembered my name after a brief introduction and mere pleasantries. I sheepishly remember carrying on a half-hour chat with Dan-from-last-night and still couldn’t place him in the morning. What is it about Penn that creates such a laissez-faire, disposable social climate?

This phenomenon could derive from the size of the social setting. Penn has 10,300 undergraduates, while Bowdoin hosts a mere 1,700 — all situationally inclined to be friendly. A passing Bowdoin junior will be passed again — at the social house Friday night, in a seminar, in the dining hall for dinner. I could easily never see a student on Locust Walk again, so why extend the effort of “How are you?” If not characteristic of a big school, cursory encounters and fleeting relationships are characteristic of an urban environment. Bowdoin is located in Brunswick, Maine, population: 20,000. Penn’s student population trumps that of the entire Brunswick community. And the city of Philadelphia lies at our doorstep, chock-full of strangers and disposable exchanges.

To be fair, there is something to be said for curtailing one’s social attentions. It would be impossible to receive meaningful introductions from every Penn undergraduate. There is simply not time to give everyone the attention he or she deserves, and choosing which relationships to maintain has an appealing practicality. But it is possible to zero in on a concrete friend group while continuing to give everyone the time of day. The prevalence and acceptability of disposable relationships on campus is simply unnecessary.

Luckily, there are methods for legitimizing introductions and for combating social indifference. A nondescript introduction fuels the Penn attitude of anonymity. However, a bylined epithet can serve as a down payment on significance. “This is Gabrielle. She is coming to your mixer on Friday.” “This is Steve. He is taking that Spanish class we were talking about.” It is disconcerting that people require incentive to acknowledge the legitimacy of an introduction. A rationale, motivation or objective must precede the effort of getting to know a person. Who are we to dictate relationships by evaluating who is worth our time?

A city setting is no excuse for immediately discounting a person, and a larger social scene is no excuse for blasé social relations. The underlying arrogance and self-absorption here is stunning. No one is capable of judging the potential merit of a relationship upon introduction, if potential merit must be part of the equation at all. So as I find heels and try desperately to recall the victims of my indifferent attitude, I have Dan-from-last-night to thank for resurrecting my sensibility.

Emily Orrson is a College sophomore accustomed to divulging the whole of it. It’s just that her opinions fell victim to space constraints. Her e-mail address is orrson@theDP.com. The Half of It appears every other Wednesday.

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