LYLAS: The Hardships of Making Adult Friends

Making friends as an adult is no joke. No one ever told me this. Why has the world been lying to us? They made us learn Calculus but not the art of friend-making during mid-life? Something feels cattywampus, don’t you think?

Because no one ever told me that when I would leave my best college friends (lylas) that all of a sudden I would lose not just their great closets (ugh, miss) but the slice of time where sitting on countertops, making couscous, sipping on wine, complaining over some obvious pain (but not really a pain) was normal and divine.

And, all of my friends, they like, I mean like really, really like, understood me.

(Said with the dramatics I hope you feel). 

Alicia Silverstone would understand.

Now I’m in mid-life and I have really great friends. I really do. But my goodness, it is not an overnight project. 

Here’s what it has felt like to me:

Continuously putting myself out there. Awkward. Nervous. Kind of sweaty. And absolutely full of vulnerable hangovers.

It has felt like lots of chocolate chip cookies and basic bribery to get to know the people around me. My chocolate chip cookies equate an invitation on the swing set circa 1980.

It has felt like rejection when people simply choose something else beyond my friendship.

It has meant people see my real life, not the one I manage and control on social media. (Hey, fake news, I see you.) This is equal parts embarrassment and a strong dose of humility. Both taste like sour grapes.

It has actually been late night phone calls of, “We really need help. Our marriage is struggling. I’m really struggling. I feel alone. Please come and sit on our couch. Cry with us. Pray with us. Love us when love feels too hard.”

And people have. They have seen it all and accepted the invitation. And truth is, some didn’t. And that’s okay. 

I think all I’m trying to say is making friends is just as anxiety-inducing, stomach-turning, butterfly-fluttering, as it was when we were kids and I think we should allow ourselves to be more gentle with one another and say yes to friendships, to awkward pauses, to random knocks on the door and chocolate chip cookies.

Maybe our world would be so much happier if we made friendship priority. Like real friendship. Like sitting on countertops, eating couscous, sipping on wine.

I don’t know. It’s just a thought. But if you send me your address, I might just knock on your door.