The second year curse: a deep dive from a Glasgow student

It carries in conversations through the wind, drifting past pubs in exclamations of “I genuinely can’t live with her for another second”, or whistling past cafés with sighs of “It’s not that we don’t get along, there’s just…”. The statement almost always falls flat, because what exactly is it that shifts someone that we thought would be a forever friend and actively folded into the fabrics of our life stories, in first year, can transform into someone we think the opposite of?

I’m exaggerating this for dramatic effect of course, I’d say that most second-year flatshares are successful – no major fallings-out, no near fist fights in the hallway, and no interventions after flat dinner. A happy amount to say the least, and not at all surprising when you consider the complete insanity of a second year flatshare.

To contextualise this, I must remind all readers of the alien experience that is living in student halls. Brutalist concrete structures ridden with strange long corridors, rooms resembling cells, kitchens collecting mold, and the maximum capacity of flatmates being 12. From happy family life, student halls are a frightening wake up call to the realities of real life… but is it real life? In my experience, I spent a year with 11 other flatmates, in the eighth block of identically sized and distributed flats. A community entirely made up of first years – jealous, hormone-fueled, extremely confused, and existing in a perpetual state of being either hammered or hungover. With surprise, I discovered upon my exit, this is not how life is! Bills are not paid to MyCampus, nor are they automatically included in the price of your cell; a room wider than 4 by 6 ft has the capacity to get even messier (somehow), and a lovely cleaner is in no way obliged to clean your kitchen every Friday.

With the mind-boggling conditions we are subject to for the entirety of first year in mind, it makes complete and utter sense as to why some second years are now faced with a pickle. Widely, this pickle is referred to as ‘the second year curse’. In my personal opinion, the issue arises in the difference between the person you met week six of first year and the person you are now living within week 12 of second year. These are two entirely different beings.

The start of second year rolls around. Blissful games of happy families. Group breakfasts, group lunches, group dinners. Sweet treat time hits at 8pm, nightly. Someone buys a calendar and instantly you all exist on the same schedule. The drift then begins, and I’ll tell you what it begins with: a mood swing. Mood swings are an easily containable thing in a student accom: there is a steadfast lock on your door that you can passive aggressively switch even if there is zero chance of anybody walking in, everything within the aforementioned 4 by 6ft space is yours, and if you’re wise theres a stash of chocolate somewhere, so you won’t go hungry either. There is no need for you to leave your cell until you have calmed down.

This is very difficult to replicate in a shared living space.

In the experiences of my nearest and dearest, an issue to one becomes an issue to all. The killer is the roll-on effect: mood swings paired with unwashed dishes paired with being really loud coming in after a night out. One more strike and that’s a confrontation and suddenly the whole dynamic is shot to hell.

Most Read

Model shares ‘painful’ statement as graphic threesome s*x tape with Diddy gets leaked

Everyone’s freaking out over a new Apple product called Loop, but is it real?!

I feel a bit silly after learning what showering on your back actually does to your body

And so, the curse prevails.

The issue, I believe, is that in no space of time were we ever warned about ‘the curse’, most go into their wider university experience more well versed on how to iron a men’s shirt than what to look for in a second-year flatmate. Of course, no one can tell you, that’s how the curse exists, it carries like a low-risk plague that people pretend they know the cure for but actually they just got really lucky.

All in all, I think it best to consider these situations as my mum labels everything inconvenient: character building. Fear not, the wonderful thing about the curse is its warranty: ONE YEAR ONLY. By third year we are all undoubtedly older, uglier, wiser, etc, unburdened by the issues that befall the youths of today, and able to sit in Pub O with a spritz and someone ELSES woes. Oh joy, oh wonder, oh light.

To surviving second years: Well done. You have outlasted the curse. Your reward is a deep sigh in a flat of your choice in the west end, with flatmates of your choice too. In twenty years’ time when your children are nearing this time, you will only offer them unhelpful metaphors about the looping trends of friendship, and phone your fellow survivors on the drive home.

To anticipating first years: Good luck.

For more of the latest news, guides, gossip and memes, follow The Glasgow Tab on Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook.