1. You text them spontaneously about coming to meet you and your friends for drinks or food and their immediate response is, “So, who’s all there?” They always want to know who’s going to be there before they show up so they can either politely decline and suggest hanging out one on one later or mentally prepare for a group outing with people they might not know so well.

2. They have no problem doing things on their own if you can’t join them. They might actually even prefer the extra alone time. Things like going to the movies by themselves or hanging at a coffee shop alone is one of their favorite ways to spend their time and just recharge a little bit more.

3. Even if they’re selective about who they spend their time with and usually say no to plans with people they aren’t comfortable with they get a little bit hurt if they aren’t invited out. It might seem contradictory and a bit selfish but it’s just the point of it all – they want to feel included and important enough to be asked to hang out, even if there’s a great chance they’ll say no. Why do they do this? Because you might get them on the off day they’re actually dying to get out of the house or whatever the event or activity is might seem appealing at the moment you ask.

4. Small social activities that might seem like no big deal to you might be a huge deal to them. Things like inviting extra people out for a night you two had plans to get drinks together and not discussing it beforehand or something as seemingly simple as calling somewhere to order delivery. Socially selective people can get anxiety about small social moments and it’s just an important thing to keep in mind when they seem to get upset about something you didn’t realize was an issue.

5. You’re always the one who leads the conversation in social settings. When people ask how long you two have been dating or what you guys have been up to you typically take the lead and answer the questions. Your significant other has no problem with this and actually feels a sense of relief when you take control of these moments.

6. They have just a few close friends and they’ve probably been tight with those people for forever. Socially selective people are more interested in building deep relationships with a small amount of people as opposed to making a ton of acquaintances they rarely engage with on a personal level. They’re never the type to go out with groups of different people every weekend. It’s just not their style.

7. They skipped out on prom, homecoming dance, or any of those other moments growing up that were basically like a rite of passage. Those moments seemed terrifying, tedious, or a mix of both. They wanted nothing to do with them.

8. They need a game plan for an exit strategy when you head out to a party or event. Even though they really didn’t want to attend your best friend from college’s birthday party they know it’s important that they be there for you. So you compromise on length of time you’ll stay at the party, the excuse you guys will use to ditch out, and lay out the details on who you think will there or what will be talked about. OR you guys just agree it’s cool if they’re only there for a bit of time while you close the place out and you two meet up later.

9. Your friends have asked if your significant other likes them because of how little they’re around when you all hang out. Or they make comments about how shy or quiet they are. You always feel a little protective and defensive during these moments. They’re actually not that shy or quiet!! They just aren’t super warm and open to people they don’t know that well.

10. They find contentment in your relationship by doing quiet activities together. So things like sitting in the same room while you’re both reading or working on your laptops is honestly one of the best ways to bond. It’s a quiet, relaxing moment you both can share.

11. They give you a heads up when they need to be alone. Sometimes they disappear for a few days and when you ask what they were doing they say “nothing.” For most people you might think this seems totally sketchy and like b.s. but no, the truth is they were actually doing nothing. At most they were probably at home chilling out with a book or Netflix and needed some time to just be on their own.

12. When you guys order delivery or there’s a UPS person walking up to your door they prefer you be the one to deal with it. They’d rather have you sign the receipt, make the small talk, deal with another human for the minute or two they’re at the door.

13. They’re more prone to travel alone than with friends or sometimes even you. If they’re a traveler chances are they often prefer to be on their own than with anyone else. The reason for this is because they like to make their own rules and go by their own itinerary on the road and join up with other travelers when they need that social atmosphere. They’ll take trips with you too, of course, but don’t be offended if they want to go on a weekend backpacking trip by themselves.

14. One of the worst things you can do is leave them alone with someone they don’t know while you run to the bathroom. Of course, you can do this, but small talk seriously pains them and they’re counting every second until you can get back and alleviate the conversation.

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A. The Email

Expectation: You’ve been bracing yourself for this since the ill-fated Halloween costume thread. Dave is certainly gonna come out with his trademark high voltage enthusiasm, and you’re gonna need a built-in alibi so you don’t have to attend what’s sure to be a brutal $170 open bar.

Maybe you shouldn’t’ve ended things with Cary — you guys could’ve planned that fake trip to Vermont you always wanted to go on.

Reality: Dave, beaten down by year after year of New Year’s Eve disappointment, suggests that the group forgo an open bar and do something a little bit different this year. You read over the email 5-7 times, just to make sure this isn’t a prolonged typo.

The group decides to convene at a sushi restaurant downtown, followed by a small house party at Dave’s place. Dave stresses that the dinner should be over as early as possible, as to not run into the late night transportation rush. The whole thing seems way too reasonable.

B. The Dinner

Expectation: A 10-12 person dinner. Get a little bit tipsy, but overall enjoy the time. Have a great conversation with Erica about the novel you’re working on.

Not that you’re actually gonna do anything with it, but she’s always enjoyed your writing and it never hurts to know someone who’s got an in at HarperCollins

Reality: A 10-12 person dinner. Erica is at the opposite end of the table with her new boyfriend — which shouldn’t bother you, but it totally does. You’re instead wedged between Bruce and Dana, two people who you’re only friends with because they’re friends with everyone else at the dinner.

You spend the first five minutes talking about jobs (good for now/it’s a job/it’s just my dayjob, my real passion is underwater fingerprint cryptology), and then spend the rest of the dinner sitting in relative silence, drinking a lot more Sapporo than you’d initially planned on. In a surprise development, Bruce appears to be very into snapchatting his food.

The bill comes, and it’s somehow $70 per person. The math doesn’t add up at all, but obviously this was going to happen. Best take a cab with Freddy — even though it’s starting to get somewhat embarrassing, his father’s credit card is still going strong.

C. The Party

Expectation: Dave flips on some college football bowl — the 2-3 guys who find talking to girls too stressful and/or are in long distance relationships suddenly become incredibly invested in the outcome of a matchup between Utah and the University of Hawaii.

Everyone talks in their little circles. Someone suggests beer pong, which is immediately rejected by the cadre of 25 year-olds who are above such a juvenile collegiate sport. Half of the party takes great pride in lying about when the last time they played beer pong was (“I don’t think I’ve played in like…no, I think it’s been almost two years!”)

Having planted the romance seed with your novel, you and Erica get to talking about the stuff people talk about when they want to engage in otherwise regrettable behavior. You discuss hopes and dreams in a manner that would be very cheesy if you weren’t aggressively flirting. Eventually, you progress how you’re both “so over” gatherings like this one.

Reality: Dave flips on some college football bowl — the 2-3 guys who find talking to girls too stressful and/or are in long distance relationships suddenly become incredibly invested in the outcome of a matchup between Utah and the University of Hawaii.

You are one of them.

Someone suggests beer pong, which is immediately rejected by the cadre of 25 year-olds who are above such a juvenile collegiate sport. You take great pride in telling other people that you’ve haven’t played beer pong in like 2 years

Fed up with the weird tension of failing expectations, the group collectively decides to play a few rounds of flip cup. You’re matched up with Erica.

Following a few rounds (all of which you lose to Erica, who is somehow a master at this game), the two of you get to talking. Erica asks about your writing, but it’s clear that this is not the time to bring up your novel — it feels a little too self-indulgent, and you get the sense that she wouldn’t even be that impressed by it. You suddenly realize that 25 year-olds are less and interested in improbable yet glorified potential, and more and more interested in tangible results.

The new boyfriend returns, whom you’ve projected to be a giant asshole with a douchey job that further underscores his assholery. Turns out he’s a perfectly nice guy. Turns out he knows a lot more about Zdeno Chara’s career arc than you’d ever like to give him credit for.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. (You actually do have to go to the bathroom, given all that flip cup.)

D. @Midnight

Expectation: You spend the 10 minutes before New Year’s watching whatever special it is people watch. Someone makes a super edgy Dick Clark joke. You make a joke about Ryan Seacrest, which gets drowned out because your voice isn’t the loudest, and you really tried to wedge in that joke against the conversational will.

You really need to work on your timing.

The ball drops. Only the couples kiss. There are some people who are gonna hook up later, but everyone’s watching and it’d be kinda weird. Plus, people have their phones out and are doing that thing where they’d totally film something they wouldn’t want filmed if they were the subject.

Erica’s sitting on the other side of the room. You lock eyes when no one else is watching.

Reality: Somehow, everyone got a lot more drunk than planned. Some people are on the verge of blacking out, which is funnier now that you guys are a little older. You take to the kitchen, and start downing a few glasses of water. Looking around, Dave seems to be doing pretty well for himself — he even has a fridge that has the water on the door.
Like with the crushed ice.

No one even realizes it’s midnight, and you end up celebrating New Year’s with the announcers from the College Football game.

You lock eyes with Dave. You tell him that you’re a douche who underestimated him, and that you had a lot more fun than you expected to have. You could tell that Dave is slightly concerned about you, but you guys are no longer good enough friends for him to speak his mind on the matter.

You think about texting Cary. You decide against it.

E. Return Home

Expectation: A $60 Cab/Uber/Hovercraft. Pasta for two weeks.

Reality: A $60 Uber. Pasta for a week, because you ate it all too fast.

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There was a shiny golden seal on the letter, officiated by the state, but what lay inside may as well have been rotten and broken, as broken as the cause that it stated. It’s funny how good they made an official execution notice look in appearance. I subtly sat the letter down on the table and didn’t think about it for weeks, but his calls were relentless. He begged for me to come. I could have sworn I told him, “I don’t do maximum security, it makes me nervous”, but yet again, relentless. I had grown up with this guy, shared a room with him from the time I was born until the time I turned fifteen and walked in on him doing the most obscene things in the world with his girlfriend at the time. Even then I could have smelled it a mile away – the turn his life would take, sadistic.

He was sitting with his back to me when they paged me in, scrounging up all the food he could, the biggest arrangement of BBQ wings and watermelon that I had ever seen. I almost cried at the thought of being able to enjoy this food for the rest of my life while this would be the last thing that would ever sit in his stomach. That was a strange thought; the very thought of a life ending, and everything being their ‘last’ moments. I remember I had been there the first time Timothy kissed a girl. The first time my mother grabbed ahold of his neck and hoisted him off the ground when she found out he had driven drunk. The first time he got into a real fight. I was there the first time he took a hit from a blunt, and then asked me if I wanted it, shoving it in my face. Looking back…well, Timothy could have been a better brother all around.

I stood behind him for a good minute thinking of what I could say before grabbing his attention, but before it came to me, he turned around and the widest, silliest smile I had ever seen appeared on his face. He looked like the first time he had lost a tooth and screamed that the tooth fairy was going to visit him that night. Except now, it was his big brother, and the visit had an underlying melancholy feel that couldn’t be described. “Oh my god, you came!”

Typical of my brother to ask me to sit down and then quickly recommend that I try one of his hot wings, pushing it toward me with his fork. “They’re so good! Just have one!” His last meal and he was offering bits and pieces to me. I couldn’t break his spirit. I took a bite. The guards in the room wore frowns and monitored us closely, seemingly listening to every word, but the family reunion felt nice, nicer than I had ever expected.

When we were finished reminiscing, Timothy whispered, “I’m really sorry that you have to be here for this. I know it’s not how you wanted things to be. But, you have to understand…”

I put a hand up and halted him. “I do understand. Dad was a maniac and a very ill man, Timothy. I just wish that your life wouldn’t have been put in vain because you couldn’t control your anger…”

He cocked his head to the side, a small frown forming. “I know. But I just want you to remember one thing. We always shared everything. We always will share everything.” His words burned right into me and I even broke into a small waterfall of tears, holding hands with my older brother from across the table. He just nodded at me and continued to nod when the guards told us that our time was up, and broke our hands apart. He backed out of the room still smiling at me, at peace. For once in his life, he had truly come to terms with the fact that this was the end.

I walked into the room with the large glass wall, staring straight at that seat that had prior taken the lives of so many men and women. There was a spot for family right at the very front and as I peered beside me on both sides, I realized that I was all he ever had. I was there for the times that our father had beaten him across the back with his massive hands, full of cracks from whipping him raw.

When he had knocked Timothy out unconscious with a pan in the kitchen for not finishing the dishes in the set amount of time. When he put his hand up Timothy’s girlfriend’s skirt and laughed about it, taunting his own son. Making her leave and never come back. I was glad that the only ‘family’ that showed was me; I was the only one who could rightfully call myself that, all he had left. We did share everything.

So they bring my brother into the room, hands behind his back, pale faced but still smiling at me as we met eyes. There were other people in there who filled in behind me, witnesses, people who had known my father sneering and thinking to themselves, ‘you get what you deserve’ when they hadn’t even known the half of it. I shuddered at the fact of the ill-informed. My brother took his seat and they prepared him. He kept smiling, never taking his eyes from me. The last thing he wanted to see. His eyes were burning into me now, I felt like he had already passed into the afterlife and now I was looking at the carcass of a man who had been hollowed out through his own life experiences.

I don’t know what sickness overcame me but suddenly I felt my gut wretching and the need to puke followed soon after. It came boiling up in my throat and I ran out of the room, breaking the eye contact with my brother and splattering hot liquid into the inside of a trashcan for the next few minutes. I couldn’t hear a thing behind the door and at this point I didn’t want to return.

One of the guards came out a few moments later. He just stared at me, placed a hand on my shoulder, something I didn’t expect. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“What…” I started, grabbing the man’s attention, “What…were his last words?”

“We share everything.”

I knew he had spoken them for me.

I remember coping with the whole ordeal, the nightmares that followed me for weeks in my dreams, walking down a dark street at night and seeing my brother’s silhouette in front of me and as he would turn to face me, that smile would appear again. So at peace with himself, as if he had done the world a favor. I had never had a closeness with my father and I hated the things he had done to Timothy. My anger boiled for him and the fact that I lost a brother because of him made it ten times worse. But I coped with the nightmares, the anger, the loss, by looking through tons of photo albums and journals he had left behind. I remembered something my aunt had told us one time, that we were two peas in a pod, that Timothy and I were exactly like one another. It sent chills up my spine as I looked at a photo of my aunt and father, their hands on our shoulders as little boys, the fact that we were two completely different people.

I dragged myself to work for a couple weeks after the incident, unable to pick myself up onto my feet as easily as I thought it would be. I could hear the booms of my boss as he walked across the floor to my cubicle, he would run his fingers along my tie and say, “It’s crooked again, kid. Still not feeling good?” but as the weeks ran on, this turned into a rude, “Get your act together or else you’re going to lose your job.” He just couldn’t understand the fact that I saw Timothy’s face everywhere, heard his words ringing true as day in my ears.

One day my boss approached me and told me that he was putting me on a probation that basically implied that one more fuck-up would mean that my job would be ripped out from under me. I left in a fury that day, promising myself to do better, but deeply sickened by the confrontation to the point of wanting to pull out my hair and going into a deep sweat. I laid in bed that night and tried to keep myself calm, but nothing worked. Eventually, I sputtered out the words, “I’m going to kill him! That’s it; I’m going to kill him!”

And as soon as the plan to kill my boss devised in my mind, I lunged into my bathroom and threw up everything I had eaten into the toilet bowl.

Looking down at my mess, I noticed something black and round in there. I plucked it out with my bare hands, greasy, sticky slime resembling BBQ sauce dripping from it. A watermelon seed. And another…and another, all soiled by the rotting contents of my stomach. Except I hadn’t eaten watermelons since I was about twelve years old and had one too many slices at a family get-together.

A piece of Timothy left with me that day following his untimely death. I can see him when I close my eyes, hear him every part of the day. “We share everything.” Down to every last desire, down to every last sick part of his mind, I can attest to this.

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