It started in my mid-30s: The Great Slipping Away. Gradually, and then suddenly, the friends I had in New York started to disappear. Some moved out of the city. Others moved into different phases of their lives: they became laser-focused on their careers and had no spare time. Or they had kids, and hanging out became harder.
Then I became one of the people who had kids and moved out of the city and all my local friends slipped away. A couple of years ago I moved to Philadelphia, a city where my wife and I only vaguely knew a grand total of two people. We were drawn to Philly by its affordability but we underestimated just how difficult it is to build a new community from scratch. As an introverted freelancer who doesn’t have colleagues I see every day (even if just over Zoom), I certainly didn’t anticipate how much effort I would have to make if I didn’t want to become a complete hermit.
This is the point where if I was really strategic and angling for a self-help book deal, I’d tell you I had figured out a brilliant technique to make new friends when you’re over 40. Perhaps I would borrow from the bestselling book The Secret and say all you need to do is manifest those new friends and they will magically appear. Or if you do enough cold plunges – which are very hot with the wellness crowd – the endorphins you release will turn you into an extrovert.
Alas, there isn’t any secret to making new friends as an adult. Having kids and a dog definitely helps you meet people, and beyond the playground and park, the formula for making new friends is pretty obvious. First, consistently go somewhere where you will see the same people – a gym or a book club, for example. Then talk to those people. After repeating these steps enough times, you will eventually make some new friends.
That’s the theory, anyway. Putting it into practice can prove more difficult. When I first moved to Philadelphia I did step one of the Friendship Formula and joined a gym. But unless you are obnoxiously extroverted it’s difficult to strike up conversation with someone during most gym activities. In the end, I ended up talking to strangers only twice. The first was in the steam room when a woman, quite unprompted, started telling me all about mitochondria. The second was when I was naked and panicking in the locker room because I couldn’t find my clothes. Screeching “I can’t find my clothes” at strangers is not exactly a good way to win friends and influence people.
I wouldn’t say this was the only reason I eventually left that gym, but it was certainly a contributing factor. Still, it worked out, because I ended up somewhere else that offered squash lessons. I took one on a whim and, to my surprise, became obsessed. It is an incredibly addictive sport – indeed, Prince Philip even missed King Charles’s birth (which took more than 30 hours) because he was playing squash with his private secretary. Although, to be fair, that’s probably not the only reason he missed the birth. Anyway, I don’t have a private secretary to play with, so I have developed a creepy new habit of hanging around the squash courts and forcing my phone number on anyone I meet who is about my level. I don’t suddenly have a new pack of best friends for ever (yet), but I definitely have a much better social life and have become far happier.
If there is some magic secret to making new friends, it’s probably this: enthusiasm is everything. If you find something you are genuinely excited about then it’s much easier to find a community. Forcing yourself to try new things is also key. I’ve never thought of myself as sporty and if you had told me a year ago that I’d be watching squash videos in my spare time, I would have scoffed. But now I love it. Even though “love” is still my final score in a lot of games.
Arwa Mahdawi is a Guardian columnist
