After living in San Francisco for three years, I still feel like I’m new in town. I go to a lot of college alumni events, Web commenter meetups, networking parties, and other places alone, hoping to meet someone I can connect with, and trying to find shopping buddies and happy hour pals. Basically, hoping to find a friend.
And that’s how I ended up at a brunch surrounded by eight strangers. Or rather, seven strangers and one casual acquaintance I met on one of my friend-finding missions who seemed perfectly nice.
But after two hours of your company, strangers, I regret to say that I don’t think it’s going to work out between us. It was lovely for the eight of you to invite me to share in a glorious Sunday morning of waffles and wine, but in my thirty-one years of living, I’ve learned a few things about the people who make it into my inner circle. I know that I’m not really in the position to turn away friends, but my friends tend to share some very important qualities, and I just don’t think you folks are going to fit the bill.
My friends show up on time.
When my friends and I have plans, they don’t stroll in an hour late like it’s no big deal. They don’t leave the rest of us sitting hungrily at the table, fantasizing about ripping the toast out of the hand of the woman at the next table. If someone does run late, the rest will go ahead and order for the good of the group, not loiter at the table for an hour waiting for the late attendees to suddenly trickle in. And if anyone does trickle in an hour late, they have a damn good excuse. You see, it’s not really about timeliness; it’s about being a grown-up.
My friends talk about more than frat parties.
We all love to relive our college days, don’t we? But, you see, the difference between my friends and you is that my friends have more to talk about than that time we got sooooo wasted at the Kappa Sigma house. Which brings me to my next point …
My friends aren’t constantly drunk.
I’m actually sort of amazed that you hold down jobs. Hey, I have no problem with spending the occasional Sunday Funday drinking wine in a park; it just sort of seems like that’s all you do. Every conversation revolved around happy hours, drunken shenanigans, the clubs you went to last Saturday night, and how bad your last hangover was. Oh, and drunk driving. Cute.
My friends are smart.
I know that there are a lot of ways to be smart, but my friends don’t say things like, “Oh, you know, that one weird singer from the eighties” to refer to David Bowie. My friends don’t talk about how their brother’s friend’s girlfriend’s sister’s kid got totally messed up from vaccinations. Maybe you’re all secret brain surgeons, I don’t know. My friends certainly aren’t. But they do at least display a basic level of intellectual curiosity and awareness of politics, pop culture, media, and current events. (How can you not know who David Bowie is?!)
My friends aren’t total dicks.
At the end of a group meal, my friends don’t toss eight debit cards onto the table, leaving the waitress to figure it out. Seriously, that’s a dick move. And my friends definitely don’t laugh it off, saying, “Whatever, she has to do what we tell her to do.” It might be worth mentioning that most of my friends have waited tables or tended bar, and thus understand concepts like kindness and common courtesy. And if they know they’re going to a restaurant with eight other people, they stop and get some cash first. I mean, how hard is that?
It’s not you, it’s me. As it turns out, it really is difficult to make friends as you get older. But it’s not because we become less interested in meeting new people. It’s because as we get older, our filters get stronger. When you’re young, you’re friends with people who are convenient to you—people from your hometown, people you work with, your roommate—even if you don’t have much in common, it’s easy. Once you get older, you stop being willing to put up with nonsense and you start looking for people who are like you, people with whom you actually have things in common. You learn to recognize a kindred spirit and a fellow traveler, and quickly spot those who are not a good fit. Finding friends is a lot like dating; some of the people you meet stick around and some of them don’t.
Don’t worry, it’s not like you’re missing much by not being friends with me. I can’t get you into hot clubs and I don’t have a beach house. I do bitchy things like write stories about people I don’t know very well. I’ll be fine too, and eventually I’ll find my niche with people who can be on time and have seen Labyrinth at least once. Maybe someday we’ll see each other out and about and exchange polite hellos. In fact, it might be sooner than later. You guys might be clueless drunken jerks, but you have awesome taste in brunch spots. My eggs were delicious.