I’m Almost Thirty, I Don’t Have a Friendship Group, and I’m Okay With That.
I wonder if lonely is the word that encapsulates how I feel about my social life. Still, it's the closest I can think of, but maybe with just a little less sadness than the word traditionally reads. It's a word usually associated with older people living alone and not twenty-somethings who seem to have fulfilled lives splashed across social media.
I was bullied from year 3 to year 11 in varying severity. For some years, people in my "friendship" group talked behind my back. In others, it was name-calling, isolation and physical violence. I had one best friend since I was 2, who ditched me the second she got into a relationship when we were about 16-17. I had a group of friends for a while. After befriending my bully, they told me I should give him another chance because "he'd changed" (perhaps they'd have felt different if they'd seen him spray an aerosol in my face in year 8?). My time at college wasn't much of an improvement, I think my ADHD was in full swing by then, but I didn't know it. I did the International Baccalaureate and never felt as bright as my fellow students. I also didn't fit in with most groups, nor did I particularly want to join in on all their drunken and drug-fuelled adventures. It's an understatement to say that making friends has never been easy for me or a priority.
I worked as a student nurse in a Veterinary Clinic clinic after college. I was 18 with colleagues aged 29-60. I was grateful that we kept our relationships strictly professional (though I could have done without the abuse). I had a few friendships from the industry and a mate from college - though both ended after a couple of years (racism was the culprit this time). I met Konrad when I was 21 and quickly found support and friendship in our relationship. The too-good-to-be-true feeling was so intense I was convinced that we would fizzle out, and I pushed the limits often to make it happen sooner rather than later. I was lucky to bag the most patient person in the world because eight years later, I've accepted that we're together.
I never wanted to be the woman who only had her partner as a friend, but I'm not ashamed to have gone where love was. I don't know about anyone else, but I have always put people I know into categories of friends and acquaintances; the latter being the people I knew from here and there. We didn't hang out one-on-one or text frequently, but we'd stay friends on Facebook, and I probably had their number somewhere on my phone. The 'friend' title felt more unique, and I was reluctant to give it to anyone. This apprehension led me to be essentially friendless for most of my twenties. Whilst many my age were clubbing, at the pub, doing brunch or hanging out, I was overworking and spending my downtime with Kon. Although I have no regrets about how I spend my time, I've always been conscious of not letting my romantic relationship subsidise other connections in my life. It didn't occur to me to make an effort to make new friends, though, in hindsight, this was likely due to self-preservation instead of disinterest. People seemed solid in their friendship groups, boasting of having known each other since high school or work. Infiltrating, that seemed more terrifying than I dared let my brain contemplate. A life of rejection and superficial engagements convinced me that the friendship displays I witnessed were just for selfish entertainment rather than meaningful connection. I've been told a few times that I have high expectations for friendships, which I have always disagreed with, though I am revisiting that idea out in my hands for the first time at 28.
I could blame my ADHD or being a Pisces for how I feel emotions intensely. If we are friends, then that is love. I am loyal to a fault, give too much of myself to those I think deserve it, and would do the same for me. I can count the reciprocation on the one hand. Doing things alone has become my default, but it can be tiring and, as I said before - really fucking lonely. Social opportunities are more limited the older you get as work and other commitments take centre stage in people's lives - maintaining friendships, let alone starting new ones, is a struggle. Then there's actually selecting people to invite into your life. So many of us probably tolerated some bullshit for years that we'd block in a second today. My job is on social media now, so I meet so many different types of people that I'd never choose to socialise with; age similarity definitely doesn't equate to sharing values or interests. Sometimes having distance and superficial relationships feels safer; you know what you're getting into, and there's no follow-up (except feeling empty after almost every engagement).
As an introvert, my lack of friendships doesn't make me feel left out. On the contrary, social media is why I have friends now, and I dread thinking about my life without it. Despite having countless apps and messaging platforms to connect through, there can be a faux connection as we fail to differentiate between stationary two-dimensional photos and real people. As I creep closer to the big 3-0, I can feel my body and mind urging for more connections, experiences and people in my life. So here's what I'm going to do:
Reiterate that my romantic relationship is not a subsidy for other relationships.
Konrad and I are already good at having our own 'things'. Still, it's one thing to have our own hobbies and interests at home and an entirely another thing to spend every second next to each other. Dating is not the same as socialising. That's not to say that friendships can't bloom from failed dates, but often (not always), these situations are instant gratification masquerading as intimacy, so let's keep the social opportunities diverse.
See social media for what it is: a lie.
Being an influencer, I am often told about our favs backstabbing, social climbing, and faking friendships. I've never considered anyone else's relationships as aspirational. Still, I know how it may be portrayed on social media can generate pangs of envy and sadness. People could make assumptions about my social life based on my Instagram interactions that are entirely inaccurate. I already decided that in 2023, I would seek outside stimulation instead of living on social media (even if it pays my bills). People are already spending less and less time on these apps, and I love to see it. I've started by trying to keep off there all weekend, allowing me to concentrate on *real life*. Try to limit your scrolling; check in occasionally (to like my posts, please - I have no shame), and then return to it.
Do something different but do it for you.
It's been a long while since I've had a hobby. I grew up dancing, with a lot of it being competitive, so friendships often had an element of fakeness that I didn't understand as a child. Social media (yet again) has incredible power to influence how we live our lives; hobbies are not exempt. I tried rollerblading like everyone else, but I knew it wasn't for me, and I didn't want to meet up with other people to do it. Eventually, I started looking into barre classes, and the only influence to attend was myself. Since going, I've found the courage to speak to people in my classes, a pleasant surprise for my social anxiety. When you start doing things and going to places for yourself primarily, you'll find it easier to make that jump by meeting new people.
Get comfy with yourself.
I enjoy time alone; in fact, I prefer it over being social. Ironic considering this post. I see no shame in dining alone, travelling alone, going to the park, museum, cinema, a concert etc., all on your ones. Too many of us worry about what other people will make of us doing these things alone, but let me ask you this: when was the last time you judged someone you saw out and about on their own? Humans are so self-obsessed that our thoughts will almost always be focused on our own shit, and we barely register those around us. Become okay with solo adventures, and in turn, prioritise yourself. Your well-being being nurtured is a necessary factor in developing external connections.
Open up.
Many social encounters encourage superficial, surface-level conversations, often making neither party particularly memorable or exciting. My ADHD impacts how I interact with people, and not always in a good way. I can be very talkative and engaging, but sometimes I can overdo it by barely stopping and forgetting to ask questions. On the contrary, I can also be awkward and quiet, worried about inserting myself into a conversation for fear of being rude or not having something good enough to add. I don't have the answers for how to change this overnight, but now I make a conscious effort to reply with "how about yourself?" after every question. This might sound obvious to some, but chronic shyness and being neurodivergent can cause you to come across as the rudest person without meaning to.
Seek help.
Sometimes doing all of this doesn't keep those lonely feelings at bay. If you find it overwhelming and tricky to overcome alone, don't do it alone. Therapists work with people all the time on this exact thing. There's never shame in helping yourself.
Making friends can feel like a daunting task. You may struggle to connect with new people or wonder if it's too late to expand your social circle. However, it is not only possible but more manageable than you think. Undoubtedly, it will require more effort than it did in school. However, everything stopping you from trying is the answer. It starts with recognising that making friends goes beyond meeting people who share your interests (who doesn't like travelling, brunch and pedro pascal at this point?). Focusing on being open-minded and expressing genuine interest in people's lives, including those little details, is the foundation for building a meaningful friendship.
