Monthly Archives: July 2010

I’m on vacation this week, so thought it would be fun to get input on my search from the people witnessing it first hand. Today my brother explains how he inadvertently launched a mini-search of his own, in a place usually reserved for a different sort of pick up.

When I was single I told anyone who’d listen that “I kill at weddings.” Not only do I subscribe to the idea that weddings are the best place in the world to meet girls, but I was hoping to write the book (or at least start the blog). And of course I wasn’t wrong—that’s how I met Jaime almost 3 years ago.  If you’re at the wedding then you’ve been invited by the bride or groom, which at least gives you a touch of credibility. You’re automatically better off than some guy who approaches a girl at a dimly lit bar, and you definitely have something in common with the other guests (at bare minimum you both know the couple, at best you can swap stories with the mutual high school/college/hometown guest sitting next to you at Table 14, the singles table).

Jaime and I were recently at her best friend’s wedding, which meant she had various bridesmaid-like obligations that morning. It also meant I was left on my own with a bunch of other husbands and boyfriends for hours. We planned ahead and I exchanged phone numbers with a couple of guys so we could figure out plans while the girls were primping (namely, find the right bar to watch the soccer game).

Later, at the wedding, Jaime introduced me to a guy who she’d met a few times through the bride. He didn’t know anyone else there, so he spent much of the night hanging out with us. He came to the wedding without a date, and you would have thought this guy would be a prize for any girl there. Funny, cool, nice (but not too nice), smart, much much better looking than I, well dressed and, from what I’m told, pretty successful. When he wasn’t hanging out with us, I caught glimpses of him talking/laughing/dancing with various girls – I had no doubt he was making his move.

But fast forward to the after party and, unfortunately for him, he’s sitting next to me while I’m attempting to live vicariously through his night of trying to find some single girl to take home. We start breaking down every candidate I could come up with. The first girl he’d previously dated, the next bunch had boyfriends, and everyone else we could think of he wasn’t really attracted to. There really weren’t many single girls there—maybe that’s a function of going to a wedding of other 31-year olds, but still I was surprised. While this guy, who I could’ve guaranteed would walk away with multiple phone numbers, went back to his hotel room empty handed, I got digits from three guys. Maybe people are more open to a BFF than a Ms. Right these days. Or maybe I just still kill at weddings.

I’m on vacation this week, so thought it would be fun to get input on my search from the people witnessing it first hand. Today, my BFF Callie weighs in on what it’s like to be the one who stays put when everyone else moves away.

When Rachel first told me she wanted to write a blog about making friends I thought it was a great idea. Ok, maybe that’s not entirely true.  I didn’t quite get it, really, because I hadn’t given much thought to the topic. Aside from my four year stint in Somerville, Massachusetts for college, I’ve spent my whole life in New York City (and yes, my family and friends were traumatized and appalled when I had the audacity to move across the river to Brooklyn). So, needless to say, I wasn’t so sure about the topic. But as her best friend, knowing how smart she is and what a great writer she is, I figured it would work out. Then, once she launched the blog, I (as a best friend does) sent a blast email to all my contacts telling them to read it. Well, the feedback I got was overwhelming. So many people identified! Everyone from college acquaintances who moved to Chicago and wanted to meet Rachel to my middle aged Aunt who relocated to North Carolina for a late-in-life career change. I gave it more thought and realized Rachel is so right. BFFs are hard to come by. Wasn’t I lucky I didn’t have to go through a search like hers?

Then I started to analyze my own life and friend situation, only to realize that I’d certainly not made any new BFFs since freshman year of college. Sure, I had new friends from my book club and people I’d met through work or other friends, but I was nowhere near the BFF stage with any of them. Rachel hit the nail on the head: Making best friends (the kind you call up for no reason other than to recap what happened on Glee, those you know will be excited if you stop by their apartment and curl up on the couch just because you’re in the neighborhood) is just plain hard to do.

But I’m protected,  right? My BFFs live a short subway ride away…right? I suddenly realized it’s not going to be like that much longer. My BFFs are slowly but surely all moving away. I know Rachel’s had the challenge of moving to a new city, but what about being the person left behind when everyone else leaves?!?  Pretty soon I may have some local-BFF searching to do. Since Rachel moved three years ago, another one of my best friends left for DC and two others have plans to move in the next two years. Where does that leave me? I thought I was safe, staying in the protective bubble of my home city. It looks like I’ll be thrown into the BFF search, despite thinking “I’m staying in NYC so that will never be me.” At least I’ll have an entire archive of blog posts (and even a book!) to help lead the way when the time comes.

Today is a very exciting day. Why? Because tonight I leave for my honeymoon. One year later.

I have no specific plans to make friends on my trip—it’s a romantic getaway after all. But just because I’m not planning for it doesn’t mean it won’t happen. I’ve heard plenty of tales of people—especially couples—making vacation friends. In fact, someone I know came up with a really clever name for these connections that I now can’t remember. Vacachums? Tripanions? I got nothing. If you are that brilliant mind, please show yourself.

I can see why couples might pair up during weeklong getaways. Vacation bubbles are just a microcosm of the real world. Girls need an US Weekly buddy, guys need someone with whom to make fun of US Weekly. (Generalizations, yes.) But there really is something magical when you’ve found the perfect foursome—and what brings a couple together better than a shared couple crush! Remember PJ and Bobby’s giddiness when they met their perfect match? (No? Then start watching My Boys. Season 4 premieres Sunday.)

I never studied abroad, but I hear that travel friends are the most fascinating kind. One of my closest pals told me to “just get lost and find a local to take pity on you. That’s how I met a nun in Napoli who’s my favorite stranger in the world and I think of fondly and often.” She also tells me that the first essay in Sloane Crosley’s latest book deals with this very issue: “Sloane goes to Portugal on her own before her 30th birthday and is so lonely. On the last night she meets these Portugese clowns in a bar, and the only way they can communicate is drawing stick figures on cocktail napkins, but they end up telling each other all sorts of deep personal truths that way.” Sounds amazing.

A friend who I swear is a professional people-meeter once traveled alone in South America for a month. The emails she’d send to us back home were the likes of: “I met some rock climbers at a bar yesterday and went hiking with them today. Once we got to the top of the mountain we drank whiskey to keep warm and played the guitar. It was freezing and I didn’t have a sleeping bag, but otherwise it was awesome.”

I don’t anticipate any rounds of Top of the World around the campfire, but there’s something poetic about meeting friends as you travel the world. And who knows? Maybe my BFF is awaiting me in Croatia.

Have you ever made travel companions? Share the tale!

(Two quick things: 1) There will be posts all week next week! You’re in for a treat, I promise. 2) It has come to my attention that some Google ads have been appearing at the bottom of some of my posts. I have no idea why—I don’t accept advertisements. So please ignore them and accept my apologies. If anyone knows how I can get rid of them…)

In case you’re interested in where I stand in my summer reading, let me share: According to my Kindle app, I’m exactly 42% done with the summer It book, David Nicholls’ One Day. I mention this not because I think you should read it (Though I do. Think you should read it, that is. So far it’s a perfect beach read. And you’ll want to have read the novel when the Anne Hathaway vehicle hits theaters), but because a sentence others might gloss over recently gave me pause.

“People make a big deal about friendship but it really does seem incredibly easy here, and soon he is imagining everyone hanging out together, going on holiday in a camper van, having barbecues on the beach as the sun goes down, and they seem to like him too…”

The second part—the imagining everyone hanging out and gallivanting in a camper van—happens to me all the time. I meet someone seemingly spectacular and picture us walking through the city streets, each balancing a cell phone on our shoulder as we fumble for our keys with one hand and hold fresh shopping bags in the other. In my mind’s eye it plays like something out of a BFF chick flick. With a split screen or a montage that jumps back and forth between us. The Sweetest Thing, perhaps. Or Now and Then.

But it’s the first bit of this passage that really stuck with me. “People make a big deal about friendship…” Do they? Because when I started this search, it seemed to me that no one made a big deal about friendship. That so much energy was spent analyzing romantic relationships that friendship got a bit shortchanged in the cultural conversation.

In fact, I’ve always imagined that the most popular criticism of this blog might be that it makes too big a deal about friendship. People are constantly advising me, “don’t overthink it,” when it comes to navigating the murky waters of forging a local BFFship. It is, obviously, my tendency to notice and analyze issues as they pertain to social connections. I think about it. Then maybe overthink about it.

I’d argue these issues—saying the L word, how to go from acquaintance to friend, which BFFs are off limits—are real, and that people rarely talk about them for fear of appearing neurotic or obsessive. But you might argue that all my analysis is detracting from the experience. That friendships should just happen, in their own time, on their own schedule.

So my question to you is this: Do you think people make a big deal about friendship? Too big a deal? Or do you think talk of BFFs  and making friends gets sidelined by all the discussion about dating, marriage and Mr. Right?

It’s Research Wednesday! Where I share the latest, or most fascinating, in the science of friendship.

“The number of people who changed residences declined to 35.2 million from March 2007 to March 2008, the lowest number since 1962, when the nation had 120 million fewer people.” (“As Economy Slows, Americans Are Moving Less,” New York Times, 4/23/2009)

I guess it’s no surprise that Americans are moving less these days. It’s hard to sell your place in this market, and relocating’s a pretty expensive undertaking. Still, despite the research, I’ve gotta say, it feels like everyone is moving.

According to the 2000 census (and also common sense), the majority of people who move are in their 20s and 30s. No big surprise—moves come while you’re still figuring out your life. You relocate for love, a job, school. Before you grow up and decide to settle down. This is all well and good for the movers—I was one of them once—but it’s really rough on someone who’s trying to make new friends.

I can’t tell you how often I meet people who tell me they won’t be here much longer because a) they’re applying to business school, b) they can’t stand Chicago winters or c) they’re in a long distance relationship. I shouldn’t complain since I was a relocater myself not too long ago, but now that I’m feeling settled it would be polite if my new friends would just stay put.

A reader told me a potential friend once said to her, “Are you planning on staying here in San Antonio, or do you think you’re going to move elsewhere sometime in the future? Because if you think you might move, then I have to rethink being friends with you.” It’s an absurd question to ask someone you hardly know, but I can understand the sentiment. Making new friends takes a significant amount of time and effort. If a year later that person’s not going to be around, you have to decide if the work is worth it. Run that good ol’ cost-benefit analysis.

When someone relocates, it’s not like they die. You can still be friends, obviously. But who needs more long-distance friends? Really. All my BFFs are long-distance! That’s how we got here!

Unlike the San Antonian, I don’t write off potential pals who might move. I pursue, and then just say “moving is stupid!” like a ten-year-old and hope it charms them into staying nearby. But the prevalency of moving is the primary reason why, when all’s said and done, I’d like to emerge from this quest with a good handful of local best friends. I need a cushion when a few leave. Even if less of them are ditching home than used to.

You know that moment in a relationship when you realize the two of you just went from “dating” to “couple”? Maybe you hear yourself introduced as girlfriend, or it’s assumed you’re going out this Saturday night, or… well, I don’t know. I’ve been with Matt for almost ten years; I’ve hardly ever dated.

What I do know is that these moments exist in friendship too. Exciting little turning points that, even as they happen, you notice and think Now we’re friends for reals. They’re the anecdotes bridesmaids share in wedding speeches, or Mom-BFFs tell the daughters they’re hoping will follow in their footsteps.

At dinner tonight, my girl-date told me about her relationship with a coworker. “I can pinpoint the exact moment I knew we were friends,” she said, and proceeded to tell me a story about the morning her colleague told her, in passing, that her hips were sore because she and her husband had been plenty busy the night before.

When I think about my significant friendships, I can usually identify The Moment. Doesn’t matter how long ago it was. Like when Sara invited 10-year-old me to her family’s country home. Or when I was a college freshman craving a late-night snack and ran into Dan, who’d just ordered pizza sticks to our dorm. The rest was history.

More recently, a new pal and I were having a heated debate at book club. After the requisite The Great Gatsby discussion, we had a bit of a conflict over the merits of rompers. I was on the side of “They’re cute! I want one for my vacation,” while she was more of the “They’re for infants—wear a dress” value system. So when I met my brother’s girlfriend for coffee the next day and she looked adorable in her patterned one-piece, I texted my new friend a picture and a quick message: “See! Cute.” When she saw a heinous one this weekend, she sent a photo my way. And now, thanks to the very divisive romper/onesie/jumpsuit, our friendship has graduated from book club only to text whenever.

Some—my pal included—might argue that this is the only thing that a romper’s ever been good for. I’ll take it.

Can you recall The Moment with your best friend? What was the tipping point? And most importantly, are you pro or anti-romper?