Every night is country night at some Ottawa bar. Or at least it felt that way back in 2008, when I spent the summer writing sad poems about how boring life can be from my grey cubicle at Canada’s Pest Management Regulatory Agency.
My time as a data entry intern was as stimulating as it sounds, and if you didn’t catch that, I’m not a country fan. So when I infiltrated this group of friends I felt relieved to have met some likeminded locals.
As someone who moves around quite a bit, I am often welcomed into different friend groups. I’m grateful, but also find myself feeling a sort of retroactive FOMO, a jealously of the fact that I can’t turn back time and take part in all the experiences that have led them to where they are.
I get the irony, that if it wasn’t for the moving I wouldn’t get to meet all these wonderful people in the first place, but still, when I fall into a good group dynamic I can’t help but feel like I’m just a course auditor.