Why spending a Friday night in the library (alone) seems to be a bad choice?

Several people have asked me what my plans were for this evening. I told them I'd probably be in the Harold B. Lee Library working on homework. The average reply was either a grimace or a reprimand. I think one of my roommates stared at me incredulously for a second, then spouted something sarcastic about me being incredibly popular and told me to try a little harder to get a date.


In spite of all of this, I let my habitual social laziness, coupled with a nagging sense of academic responsibility, drive me to the library rather than try to find a social outlet for the night. I will admit that the library was pretty much deserted compared to its normal bustling self during the schoolweek. There were several haggard looking people at the tables, poring over their respective textbooks. I won't lie, they didn't really look all that happy. The only people who seemed happy to be there were the girl who was leaning uncomfortably over her armchair to rest her head on some dude's shoulder, and the dude himself who I assumed was her boyfriend. I probably would have left myself and done something fun if the opportunity arose, i.e. somebody invited me to do something. However, I settled myself into a comfy chair and started working on finishing a personal essay. About an hour and a half later I received the following text and became engaged in a rather short conversation:



Becky Hayes: What are you doing right this moment? Anything exciting?



My response: No. I'm in the terribly boring library. Rescue me!



Becky Hayes' response: Hahaha. That's pathetic.


I guess people really don't have any sympathy for Friday-night library-going studiers. Lesson learned.


But in spite of all this adversity, and the problem of my laptop battery running dangerously low, I decided to make the most of my situation and rearrange the furniture so that I could plug in my laptop and still be happy. See?