#4 - Making Friends In Your 20's Is Hard

It’s funny to know that you’re a tough sell. And I get it, I am. I’m super opinionated (and bonus, always think I’m right), I interrupt all the time, and sometimes I speak without pause for blocks of time. I’ve been told that I can be tuned out like a background radio, which I think is very accurate and I’m perfectly fine with people doing just that.

The truth is, I’m totally okay with it if you don’t like me, but only if that opinion is formed after a genuine attempt to get to know me.

Recently, I’ve tasked myself with trying to make some new friends. I chose this year because I have incredible timing. A few things I’ve realized during this process? So glad you asked. Turns out, I truly abhor small talk, most people are dreadfully unfunny (and weirdly apathetic about voting? how!), and I hate the ‘getting to know you’ phase of any and all relationships. I need to be able to make specific references to random celebrity interviews on YouTube and talk about my period shits now or we have no hope of going forward, folks.

I find myself waffling between feeling like an open book full of fascinating secrets simply shocked that no one has picked me off the shelf to find out my opinion and feeling like a garbage monster who speaks in code and riddles.

Back around Superbowl time, I ended up in a group setting with people who I’ve vaguely known for years but never feel like I connect with. There were only five of us sitting around in this apartment, eating nachos without a table. I drank an entire bottle of red wine. (On the way home I serenaded my girlfriend with the entire song of There’s A Hole In The Bucket.) When the conversation turned to politics, we were just about to get going on the recent election results when I joked, “Don’t even get me started.”

I had intended to then launch into a five-minute mini-monologue during which I would list my opinions, cite articles, ask everyone who liked to follow on Twitter for political takes. But I had accidentally pulled the e-brake and we swerved hard all of a sudden to avoid the topic.

The problem is, I love the bumpy road elements of getting to know new people. Fuck small talk, who do you marry on your first pass through Stardew Valley? Who’s your favorite rom-com best friend sidekick character? Were you a Mary-Kate, an Ashley, or an Ashley who knew it was actually cooler to be a Mary-Kate so you faked it?

I was stunned by the realization that there could be people who had met me more than three times who had remained oblivious to a major facet of my personality, who didn’t recognize that what I mean by “getting started” was that the portion of the evening where everyone marvels at just how much I can pack into a single sentence (and breath) would commence.

Someone once told me that before we hang out they always brush up on the news because hanging out with me can feel like an episode of Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me. As a proud NPR kid (my favorite tape as a child was a comedy show compilation from Prarie Home Companion with jokes mostly told by Paula Poundstone), this is one of the best compliments I’ve ever received. The other one came to me quite recently,  a friend remarked that I had “big stage manager energy”. I’d never felt so seen!

A Tumblr infographic that stuck with me for whatever reason described that there are three perceptions of ourselves: the way we perceive ourselves, the way we think others perceive us, and the way we are actually being perceived. The closer these three are to each other, the happier we are as people. It’s only recently that I began to realize that for all of my time spent navel-gazing (she says without irony in the most navel-gazey piece she’s written so far) I almost never spent time actually thinking about my actions because I’m too busy obsessing over their opinions of me (and said actions).

So maybe I’m hoping this process will teach me to stop caring about the opinions of others. Or not stop but like, care about them in a healthier way? I am actively working on that whole interrupting people thing though, I get why that’s super annoying.

Anyway, I think I’m bad at making new friends. I want to skip to the part where we’re best friends with inside jokes and a secret language we can communicate through blinks and grimaces. How else are we supposed to simultaneously Irish Exit a party with no prior discussion? And that to me, is the mark of a true friend. Someone who also just wants to go home and get high together instead. I’ll roll.

(By the way, in my first Stardew run I went for Elliot, the long-haired hippie writer who lives on the beach. What a surprise!)