Alf, 40

For the first twenty-two years of my life, it was so easy.  I didn’t have to work on it.  At all.  It just sort of happened.  And I just kind of assumed that was the way it was.

I was never the most social of kids.  My birthday parties were fun but not exactly the social highlight of the year.  (I had lemon cake instead of chocolate - that probably didn’t help.)  I had several friends, but few enough that they’re not running together in my brain even three decades down the road.  People seemed to like me well enough.  Each year, in each grade, I met new people, made some new friends…and drifted apart from some old ones.  It happens.  It’s not deliberate. We grow up, priorities change, and we simply don’t take steps to maintain those relationships.

College was strange.  I moved 1000 miles away, and the slate was wiped clean.  But again, it happened.  I met the people in my dorm, and in my classes.  I made some friends, and soon the “at home” friends weren’t on the radar much.  We’d send letters or call once in a while (pre-internet days, after all), but mainly, we were all focused on these new people right in front of us.  Soon, I had a new bunch of great friends, and life was great.

Then I graduated.
And moved back to Colorado.
And everything changed.

For the first twenty-two years of my life, potential friends were put right next to me all the time.  We had some really fundamental commonalities. We were all in Mrs Abad’s second grade class.  We were on the same kickball team.  We were all working for the school newspaper.  We all lived on the first floor of Smiley dorm.

And suddenly, that wasn’t the case anymore.  I was living in a tiny room by myself.  I was working as a bookkeeper in an auto parts warehouse, where I only met my boss and a couple of the other employees.  They were nice enough, actually.  We chatted about this and that.  But they didn’t strike me as “friend material”.  Their interests were country music, hunting, and monster truck rallies - not exactly my cup of tea. (I did go play pool with them once or twice, but never felt comfortable doing that.)   And these were the only people I’d see on a regular basis.  I didn’t go out - where would I go?  I didn’t have any money to pay for anything, anyway.  And all my old friends had moved away.  And slowly it hit me.

I didn’t have any friends anymore.
And I didn’t know how to get any.

For the first twenty-two years of my life, it was so easy.  I didn’t go looking for friends.  I didn’t have to - friends just sort of happened.  But now, if I wanted friends, I had to go look for them.  And work at it.  And that just seemed…wrong.  I felt like I had the big L painted on my forehead, and I felt like I was walking around like a total dork, saying “Hi - will you be my friend?” to everybody I met.

It was a lonely and awkward year or two.

Eventually, I moved again.  To Farmington, New Mexico.  And strangely, I made friends there.  Partially because I was working alongside more like-minded individuals.  But also because I was getting better at it.  At actively trying to meet people, and develop relationships, and nurture friendships.  I still suck at it, but I’m at least more comfortable doing it.  And I realize that that’s how I gotta do it now.  Friends no longer just sort of happen.  They happen because I take steps to make them happen.

Yeah, it was easier the first twenty-two years.  And maybe life would be better if it was always like that.  And I don’t even have a problem with the fact that I have to do it the hard way now. 

But, damnit, someone should’ve warned me.