As Easter break approaches, it’s hard to believe my freshman year at Saint Mary’s is almost over. It seems like only yesterday I was picking out my college bedding, stressing about what to wear to class, and wondering if I would ever make friends. Now, my bed is rarely made, I wear yoga pants every day, and I have some of the best friends of my life. The things that seemed so important at the beginning of the year hardly matter now. Did I really have to arrive to move in day at 9 A.M.? Why did I stress so much about the color scheme of my room? When you’re about to start college and as nervous as I was, all of these things seem like the biggest deal in the world. One of the biggest things I was freaking out about? Domerfest.
Ah, Domerfest. I knew it was going to be the first interaction with Notre Dame, and little orientation-me was determined to make it the defining moment of my college experience. This was where I was going to meet Notre Dame boys! This was where I was going to make all of my best friends for the next four years! And even in the back of my mind, I thought, this could be where I meet my husband. I heard all these stories from girls saying their sisters, cousins and friends had met the love of their life at this thing. Obviously, Domerfest mattered.
The day of Domerfest, I was shocked to hear we wouldn’t get time to change and do our hair after getting our shirts. Didn’t the school realize I wanted to look as hot as possible? And the second I saw the shirts were grey and dark green, I was disappointed. What about a fun, bright pink? Wouldn’t that be cuter? And why, why did the walk have to be so long? By the time we arrived, I thought my legs were going to fall off.
Once I arrived at Domerfest, I quickly realized meeting boys would not be as easy as I thought. For a girl who isn’t even five foot, getting through big crowds like this one wasn’t exactly easy. And it seemed as though everywhere I looked, people were nervously glancing around and awkwardly making small talk, not hitting it off immediately like I imagined. The dance floor wasn’t really a place with dancing, instead it was just more awkward standing. In the end, I left Domerfest early without any boys’ numbers and no love of my life.
At the time, I was so disappointed in my experience. I had missed my chance to meet Notre Dame boys! Now how would I get invited to parties? Would I ever have any guy friends? Now, I look back at that disappointment and laugh. I don’t know very many girls who still talk to the boys they met at Domerfest. I still met boys just fine, anyways. In the end, Domerfest and other orientation events aren’t about meeting boys, it’s about forming a bond with your future sisters. It won’t be a boy who stays up late with you the night before the big test. It won’t be a boy splitting a hot-baked cookie with you in the DH after you’ve already eaten three. And it definitely won’t be a boy who’s there with Ben and Jerry’s and Netflix after you’ve had a bad day. The Belles I am surrounded by are the people who will always be there for me, and I will never lose sight of that. Domerfest was the first of many experiences that gave us memories to laugh about late at night, and I can’t wait for the memories to come.
The shirts I once thought were so ugly now fill my heart with pride. It’s true, The Avenue really does always lead you home to your friends, your sisters, and ultimately your family.