Moving somewhere new is always a challenge. It's overwhelming to pick up whatever roots you have and replant them in a foreign environment. Snagging a place to live, making it more than a place to live, finding replacement dog walkers, doctors, grocery stores, libraries, restaurants, getting used to new routines and generally just feeling comfortable amongst different sidewalks, buildings, trees, humans, and license plates. More difficult than all of that is creating a new network. Finding people to (gulp) be friends with.
I can't imagine how people who are seeking partners can navigate the maelstrom of the dating world. Trying to make friends in your thirties in a totally new environment must be at least a tiny bit similar. Not identical and not as difficult but similar nonetheless.
I've never been skilled at making or keeping friends. I'm an introvert and more often than not am terrified of social interaction, even with people I truly like, much less those I haven't spent enough time with to know. I would hope that my little cozy network gets that about me, but sometimes I fear that regression into my shell is interpreted as apathy in cultivating those relationships.
Anyhow, making friends here is at constant odds with wanting to camp out in my shell. There's the challenge of even finding potential BFFs but then, at this stage of the life game, you gotta put in some serious effort. Some serious extroverted effort. Some serious the idea of this potential awkwardness hurts so bad I want to scream effort.
This article in The New Yorker called "Everything I Am Afraid Might Happen If I Ask New Acquaintances To Coffee" really nails these feelings. It's a really funny read - check it out. Meanwhile, I'm going to call someone. I mean text them. I mean send them an email. I mean play solitaire on my phone.
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