teaTonight, Rachel, Elvira and I will meet for dinner. A year ago, none of us knew the other existed. Six months ago Rachel and Elvira were strangers until I introduced them. But now we are as close to firm friends as possible after such a short time.
If you’ve ever been exposed to the media, you’d be forgiven for thinking that life after 35 is a burning wasteland of unimaginable horrors. The onset of constant back pain, an interest in dishwashing, the fact that I wasn’t qualified to participate in a whole industry referred to as "young man’s games”, and definitely an inability to make friends.
There is a saying that goes, “The older you get, the harder it is to make friends.” In fact, 69% of people surveyed in the US by Talker Research agree that it becomes more difficult to make close friends as you get older. Studies show that it takes about 200 hours of contact to form a close friendship, and that kind of dedicated time disappears in adulthood, according to psychotherapist Kaytee Gillis. “Unlike childhood, when free time is plentiful and social interactions are woven into everyday life, adults often need to actively make time for social activities even within their busy schedules.” Add to this the fact that we live in an age of increasing disconnection and widespread loneliness around the world, and it feels as if we are doomed.
Or not necessarily. I’m living proof that making friends doesn’t have to be limited to the school playground, freshers’ week, or your first job. Over the past year, I’ve slowly gathered a small network of new people who are happy to exist.
I entered my mid-30s unprepared for the dramatic changes in my social life. There was a weekend-sized hole in my social diary, once my Roaring Twenties was filled with after-work drinks, brunches, lunches, birthday parties and nights out for no reason other than Saturday (or Friday, Thursday, Wednesday…).
The same friends who once stood on bar stools singing at 2 a.m. suddenly and in quick succession moved to the suburbs (and other countries), got married, and had children. But whether newlyweds or singles, we all held fast to the delusion that nothing would change about our friendship.
In the latter camp, I realized that my life path was rapidly diverging from that of my nearest and dearest. People who have started families are now less available or willing. I understood this and was excited for them to take on new lives and roles. But emotionally it felt like a loss. It wasn’t just their physical presence that I missed. There was no need for us all to get back together screaming in the pub every weekend. But our connection was common. Phone calls also stopped. We spent days, sometimes weeks, circling each other’s calendars like confused birds with no time for conversation.
Then came the pain of seeing my friends begin lives I couldn’t relate to. But society told me I had to live. It took me years to unpack the female expectations of marriage and motherhood, which were so tightly woven into my being. Along the way, I felt like an anomaly and sometimes a failure among the trusted friends I once shared so much with.
The desire to fit in is a basic human instinct. So, as much as I loved these friends and wanted to continue spending time with them, I also knew that I needed to meet people who were living similar lives as me.
A friend overseas extolled the virtues of Bumble BFF, a platonic version of the popular dating app. This time, rather than browsing a catalog of faces to see which ones are attractive, you’re trying to identify faces that suggest friendship. In a dating culture already skewed by swipe-based judgments, it felt wrong for women to scrutinize other women in this way. It was almost the exact opposite of feminist values. But the aforementioned friend claimed that Bumble BFF had gifted her a new friendship circle, so reluctantly I swiped.
Fun fact: Whether you swipe for a friend or a lover, you’re not immune to rejection and self-doubt. In fact, being ghosted by a potential new friend is arguably worse. I can accept that someone might not like me. What I like less is when someone doesn’t completely consider me a friend. One woman, with whom we exchanged a few light-hearted messages, disappeared from the app two hours before we were scheduled to meet.
But fortunately there were more tangible connections than ghosts. It was Rachel and I’s first friend date with each other. We met in a cafe and bonded over our shared childhood spent practicing swimming. It wasn’t without awkwardness. We both admitted that the nature of what we were doing felt strange. Plus, we are completely different as people. She is a scientist and an avid Spurs fan. I’m a creative who doesn’t even know what "spurs” is. And yet somehow it works. Now, almost a year later, we are swimming together, eating together, hanging out with her dad, and jointly signing up for swimming races.
Later, I succumbed to aggressive Instagram marketing and signed up for Timeleft, an app that invites you to dine with six strangers. Through this, you will be asked to take a personality quiz. This seems to be used to connect you with 6 like-minded friends. You will then be briefed on the location and time of dinner. Again, the unnaturalness of the situation made me a little uncomfortable. We were one of several groups of strangers positioned on the restaurant floor, all relying on algorithms to find new friends. It was like an episode of Black Mirror.
But it was comforting to know that these six strangers were also in it for similar reasons. For most people, there was a time in their lives when the trajectory of old friendships changed and there was a desire to find new kin. Elvira turns out to be one such kind spirit. She sat across from me and was the quietest of the group, and at first I thought we had nothing in common. Then she said something dry and cutting under her breath and smiled wryly at me, and it was at that moment that I realized that we shared the same sense of humor. That was enough for us to keep in touch and hang out regularly for the next 11 months. Then, I introduced her to another friend, she developed her own friendship, and now the three of us go out to dinner together and attend each other’s social events.
Then there was the semi-accidental friendship (albeit with a gentle helping hand). When I moved earlier this year, I called SpareRoom, an apartment sharing platform, to help me find a new place to stay. I answered Abi’s ad and after she showed me around her beautiful apartment, we sat on the sofa and talked. We clicked immediately and I didn’t end up becoming her boarder, but instead became her friend. After the viewing, I asked her if she wanted to meet me for a drink, and she did. Several dinners, an exchange of funny and embarrassing stories, and a Fleetwood Mac tribute night later, I consider her a good friend in my new city.
None of my new friendships are app-based. We can happily confirm that it will still be possible to form connections “in real life” in 2025. Last July, Crips met Loveday organically and unintentionally while playing Brighton’s On the Beach festival. Local residents without tickets were watching and dancing on the side of the road. I may not have had the courage to join them on my way home alone, but my love for early 2000s indie pop rock is strong. So did the guy next to me, he knew every word. His girlfriend, who wasn’t much of a fan, started a conversation, and by the end of the set we were chatting like old friends at a local bar. Now, four months later, I am taking weekend walks through the South Downs with Loveday, where I am putting the world to rights.
Elsewhere, I found new acquaintances at co-working spaces, exercise classes, monthly supper clubs, and even local cafes. And this connection isn’t limited to women. Although as a straight woman I tend to seek out new female friendships to avoid what feels like mud or dating, that wasn’t the goal.
At one point I couldn’t believe my luck and everything seemed much easier than I had imagined. It’s much easier than research suggests. I’ve always been outgoing and not particularly shy when it comes to meeting new people, and I know this can help me in the area of making friends. But I think there’s something more important than extroversion.
Spiritual leaders and Instagram memes alike preach the importance of “what you put out comes in return,” “likes attract likes,” and “love yourself before you love others.” All concepts I’ve rolled my eyes at in the past. But I’m pretty sure this friendship wouldn’t have been feasible 18 months ago because I was going through a difficult time in my life. But at some point I found some peace and discovered that happiness is a feedback loop. The happier I started feeling, the more interesting the world became. And the more interesting the world became, the happier I became and certainly the more interesting I became to other people.
Statistics show that the older you get, the more difficult it is to make friends. But what they do is instill in us a defeatist belief in our agency in the world. It’s impossible to make friends as you get older. Fear, anxiety, and sadness get in the way of making friends. I believe that if you take the time to work through your difficult feelings, you will find that there are many fantastic people ready to be your friends.