First Impressions
So I’m notoriously bad at first impressions. No joke. Friends, for example, have often come to me after some time to tell me their first impression and how they’re glad they made second impressions.
Recently I met the mother of a friend of mine whom we all call Kopin. Of course, that’s her last name, so when I met her mother, she said something along the lines of “Sam, or Kopin, or whatever you call her.” I jokingly said “Michal” because this is what I often call her due to it being her middle name. Of course, I had to take it further by telling her that Kopin doesn’t actually like the name. Imagine telling a mother something along the lines of, “by the way, I call your daughter by her middle name, which you lovingly gave her, because she doesn’t like it.”
I’ve found that my best friends are usually the ones that had the worst first impressions. For example, Alana, one of my favorite people from my year in Israel, says:
I initially disliked Nathan because my boyfriend didn’t like him. Yeah, it was really dumb. I remember he was standing in my way one day, leaning on some sort of a bench and creating an arch with his arm. Instead of asking him politely to move, I squeezed my way under his arm. And then I think he yelled at me and said I could have politely asked him to move. I rudely ignored him and at that moment decided it was him, not me, that was the rude party. I didn’t like him- it was dumb.
Joey, my roommate from the second half of that year and one of my best friends, and I first met in the airport on the way to Israel. I had spent a weekend in NY doing some mind-numbing “leadership” work and was tired and a little unhappy. Joey came up to me and introduced himself and I was cold and distant. He later told me his first thoughts were, “everyone is being so nice except for this douchebag.”
Amy’s first impression was less interactive, but nonetheless negative:
My first impression of you was on the bus to some sort of USY convention. You were singing quite loudly and I just remember everyone yelling "Nathan, shut up!"
My friend Addie insists that the first time we met, I grilled her on multiple topics, asking her ridiculous questions. Eventually, she claims I decided that she passed the test and I decided to be nice to her. We later realized we share the same birthday. (Donald Hall too!)
And of course, the first impression of all, from my mother:
I had you by c-section which of course necessitates large amounts of drugs. These drugs deaden everything but I was still awake enough to be aware of what was going on. In order to pull you out, they had to maneuver around my organs and (I found out later) were sort of moving them around. This caused me to get nauseous. Just as they pulled you out and said “It’s a boy!” I threw up.
I like my second impression of you best. Slapping someone across the face several times really says “friendship.”
Your mother’s impression was priceless
My first impression of you was much better than my later impressions, I’d say.
Very nice.