Bootleg Therapy: An Advice Column #3
On making friends somewhere new, and learning whom our partners have slept with
Welcome to Bootleg Therapy: an advice column for wayward hearts. Think of me as your virtual stranger at the bar with a raspy voice and a weird scar on their cheek; the truth is in the worm at the bottom of the mezcal bottle. Submit your questions anonymously on brokebutmoisturized.com for a chance to be featured.
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In need of human connection
ISO: friendship. Picture me: freshly broken up with, moving across the country to a new city where I know no one, and no one knows me. And now cue the near crippling loneliness. How does one make friends as an adult? I like the people I work with, but don’t see myself hanging out with them outside of work. Any advice??
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Dear In need of human connection,
This is one of four submissions I received concerning adult friendship. Because yours is the most general, I hope I can hit some points that help others, too.
Off the bat, the fact that three others wrote into this tiny advice column seeking their people should let you know you’re not alone. Imagine all the people who aren’t talking about this, who aren’t subscribed to tiny advice columns that welcome anonymous readers to bare their souls. The numbers are bleak.
When I went to write this, I Googled statistics on loneliness and instantly started weeping. Isolation is a proven social determinant of health. The long-term effects are as detrimental as smoking and obesity. And beyond the holistic impact on our well-being, the abstract sense of remoteness is one of the most universal afflictions of the human experience. (There’s beauty in melancholy, but we’ll get to that later.)
I experienced true social isolation for the first time in my life when my sister died in 2018. My friends weren’t equipped to care for a grieving person; there were fights and unanswered texts and I ultimately weathered the storm alone. Amid that wind and rain, I lost my mind. I wish there was a tidier, more clinical way to describe it, but the devastation was too unruly to classify. I lived alone. I went out to eat alone. I cried alone in the shallow embrace of a single-stall restroom on a floor of 1st-3rd graders at the school where I worked. You wouldn’t know this by the number of bouquets and care packages at my doorstep. The hundreds of Facebook messages and texts I received around the clock. But expressions of sympathy do not equate friendship. I was on my own.
I became on my own in a more acute and profound way when my best friend passed in 2020. This time I had a group of women to lean on, but when you lose that one person whose toothbrush you’ve used on countless occasions, who’d order bacon at brunch because even though they don’t like it, they know you do, that is a different type of lonely. It’s the kind that taps you on the shoulder when one of your new friends posts an Instagram story for one of your other new friend’s birthday and calls them “my best friend.” It’s every wedding party you’ll never be a part of because you’re still on the group periphery. But this lonely has been most instructive because it reminded me just how important friendship is, and that if I want to have anything close to what I shared with Kathleen, I have to put in work.
Before I offer you any insight on this “work,” i.e. how to dance the elusive tango of adult friendship and foster deep, lifelong connections, I want to give you the single most important piece of advice that I can, given your specific situation: friends first, love second. It can be tempting to hang out on dating apps when you’re new to a city and freshly heartbroken because they’re so transparent about what they are; everyone’s swiping for love or sex with shades of nuance in between, which removes the possibility of looking desperate. But to approach someone at yoga and be like, “Your vibe is cool! Would you be interested in telling me your life story over coffee?” is risky business. Thankfully, Bootleg Therapy is not for the risk averse.
Work, as it pertains to making friends, requires two key components: doing shit you don’t want to do, and vulnerability. Often the shit we don’t want to do is only so unappealing because it requires vulnerability. They go hand-in-hand, alas, a tango. When I say doing shit you don’t want to do, I mean going for the dreaded ass drinks on a Wednesday when you’d rather read in bed. Joining a running group when you prefer running solo (spoiler: lots of cities have running groups who get beers afterward, or coffee if they run in the morning). Vulnerability is more about who you are in these situations. Say you went to Penn State and you learn there’s a bar in your city that’s informally dubbed “the Penn State bar” (Philly has some of these specific alumni watering holes). It’s not enough to just go there and sit at the bar; you must engage your fellow Nittany Lions. You have the ultimate ice breaker: being brand new to a city! Do you realize how much people LOVE introducing others to their favorite hidden gems? Most people are, too, befuddled by adult friendship, and yours presents as an open door.
Now, let’s get into some actionable ways to meet people:
Hop on Reddit. There used to be a stigma around Reddit as a black hole for Very Online Incels, but now, everyone uses it. Start simple: r/YOUR CITY. The Philly subreddit, for example, has a vast index of things to do with plenty of opportunities to meet people.
Join a group. Yeah, it’s that general and amorphous. What do you enjoy? If you’re a sports person, join a rec league team. Reader? Join a book club. In cities, there are groups for everything from wine to photography. Use social media or a general Google search to find them. Your group doesn’t even have to exist IRL, per se. I used to be super active in a Facebook group for east coast people who attend raves and music festivals. The people I met through this, who range from successful lawyers to wooks who sell crystals at festivals, changed my life.
Speaking of social media, Instagram is a great tool for gauging the crowd at restaurants, bars, and the like. Check the geotag of your place of interest and see who’s posted there. Browse their profiles to get a very surface level idea of whether they’re the kind of people you want to meet.
You know how I advised against dating apps? Well, Bumble has a friendship-specific option, Bumble BFF. I know plenty of people who’ve met their best friends on there when they moved somewhere new. I actually tried Bumble BFF myself recently because I wanted to meet more women in their 30s. I’ll try to report back on that soon if it’s fruitful.
Do you live in a big apartment building? Like, one with a gym and common areas and a pool? Try meeting people in your building! One of my friends moved to Philly from our home area and made a million friends in his building. They hang at the pool together all summer and go bowling in their neighborhood.
Get a dog… if you like dogs and have the financial/temporal capacity, that is. My dog changed my life for the better in every way, but it’s also a great way to meet people. Dog parks, meet-up groups, and even the people you stop and chat with on your walks are generally warm and inviting. Remember, it will always behoove you to use the “I’m new here” card.
Take a class. I’d recommend a foreign language. When I first moved to Philly, I took Spanish classes downtown on Tuesday and Thursday nights. You’ll often do speaking exercises in pairs, which helps break the ice. I also ended up befriending my teacher—an incredible polyglot gay man—and hanging with him and his partner all the time.
Leverage your network. Do you have any old classmates living in your new city? What about friends of friends? You say you know no one and no one knows you, but don’t disregard even the most tenuous and distant connections. I met my now best friend Rachel through another friend who connected us because we both live in Philly. Don’t be afraid to send a random Facebook message to someone who might not even remember you from high school.
Pick up a side gig. If you’re not so beat from the work week and your weekends are pretty quiet, try working as a barista, bartender, server, or in retail at a bookshop or boutique. I bartended on the side for a few years when I first moved to Philly and I made lifelong friends. Not to mention, it was really fucking fun and great money. The service industry attracts everyone from lifers, to grad students, to teachers supplementing their income. There’s literally an endless variety of people to meet. I personally enjoyed the sports bar vibe because no one specific type of patron enjoys sports, plus I had no experience and the drinks were easy to make.
Become a regular somewhere. Play quizzo every Wednesday at the same bar, even if you don’t drink. Get coffee or breakfast in the same cafe every Sunday. Befriend the employees. Tip generously, if you can (always tip at least 20%, though). People are drawn to consistency, affability. It’s how we build communities.
Speaking of building communities, volunteer. Are you passionate about the environment? Education? Animals? Homelessness? If you aren’t yet, this is your opportunity to become a more selfless person, and hopefully make friends along the way.
Discover or nurture a foundation of spirituality. Connecting to god or source or the universe, whatever you want to call it if you believe in something, has helped me through a lot. It’s an especially comforting pillar of life when you feel isolated from humanity, which is precisely your situation. Check out meditation centers, churches, Quaker meetings, etc. They attract a variety of really wonderful people.
Attend events. Become a yes person. Poetry readings, concerts, gallery openings, block parties and street festivals, farmer’s markets, yoga in the park, wine tastings, sporting events, etc. Be a sponge in the streets of your new home. The more you absorb its people, the more they’ll absorb you.
I’d be remiss to ignore the truth that this list (and any advice on meeting people, for that matter) is more challenging for introverts to tap. We observe extroverts with a certain yearn to be more like them—oh, to have that confidence with ease! Here is a gentle reminder that as a whole, people tend to be more introverted. So if that’s you, you’re in good company. Most of the people you meet will not be “life of the party” types. Nonetheless, it’s imperative you embrace a childlike sense of fearlessness toward putting yourself out there to meet them.
I don’t know how long you’ve been lonely, babe. I don’t know if it’s been days or weeks or months. But I do know the human spirit tends to find beauty in longing. This is a fleeting state to be savored just as intentionally as joy. Connection will come, but take this time to get to know yourself a little deeper. The strong you who moved to a new city independently, not the person who just got dumped and has no friends for 100 miles. To find your people you must know yourself. Become the book you’d want to read.
Trust him or my gut?
My boyfriend and I have been together almost a year now, and I just found out that he has slept with not one, but two, of his good friends. I myself am still friends with a handful of people that I have slept with, but none that I would consider particularly close, and this is not something I have ever hid from my partner. The fact that he never told me until now (he didn’t even really tell me, I just happened to find out while we were all hanging out in a group) really upsets me. Am I in the wrong? I’m going over and re-thinking all the times he’s hung out with these friends by himself, just the two of them, formerly innocent get togethers that I’m now convinced means there might still be something there. When I tried to talk to him about it he got defensive (naturally), but more frustratingly, didn’t seem to understand why on earth I would be upset. I want to trust him, but my gut is telling me no.
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Dear Trust him or my gut?,
Research shows that the gut-brain axis (GBA) “consists of bidirectional communication between the central and the enteric nervous system, linking emotional and cognitive centers of the brain with peripheral intestinal functions.”
…basically the same part of the body that says, “please don’t drink coffee on an empty stomach five minutes before a meeting” also says, “go through his phone,” and it’s not random. It’s why we gift people kombucha brewing kits for Christmas and scour Whole Foods for expensive probiotics. We want stake in our gut feelings, intuition we can manipulate in our favor.
I could tell you to trust your gut and move along. Odds are, you’d be relieved. Sad, but relieved. You’d start dating again in a few months, find another suitor who hasn’t fucked his friends (good luck with that), hold hands through Trader Joe’s on Sunday mornings as if he never existed. New Dude slips a bouquet of peonies into the cart when you aren’t looking, obscured by stacks of cauliflower gnocchi and soup dumplings.
But there are holes in this story, my sweet. We can’t drop sir just yet.
You told me he never disclosed this to you—that you just found out by happenstance while hanging in a group. That is a hellish feeling, no cap. Humiliating to be the last one in on the joke, especially when the joke is the very dick you’re sworn to. But it doesn’t incriminate him. All it reveals is that you never asked the questions you should have. It’s clearly important to you to know whether your partner is still friends with people they’ve slept with. Just because you’re inclined to share that information freely doesn’t mean he is, and it certainly doesn’t mean he was hiding it. One cliche I live by (among many) is “closed mouths don’t get fed.” Reciprocity of personal information is never implicit. Ask and you shall receive.
Next we have time. How long ago did he sleep with these friends? Months? Years? The brain is an undisturbed graveyard of sex memories. If enough time has passed, seeing these friends won’t awaken the dead.
If there’s one universal truth to bedroom affairs, it’s that context is everything. More sex is sparked from “right place, right time” than love. Were these drunk hookups? One night things, or consistent friends with benefits? The latter is where we run into trouble. Anyone who puts themselves in positions of lingering chemistry while they’re in a relationship is a high stakes gambler. But he’s not going to tell you this directly. You will have to dig.
Now let’s talk about his reaction to your anxiety. One of the most important lessons I’ve gleaned from relationships both romantic and platonic is that just because you wouldn’t care, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t. To get defensive when someone’s hurt is to undermine their feelings and the experiences that shaped them; it says they’re only worthy of compassion if it meets a certain standard of acceptability, i.e., something you’d be hurt by, too and thus, it must be legitimate. For example, my ex admitted to my face that he would masturbate to social media profiles of girls we knew. That crushed me, and instead of showing me compassion, he reviled me for policing his pleasure, for treating something “totally normal” like it was pathological. Contempt for someone’s anxiety only begets it. It makes them anxious about being anxious, which is a form of g*slighting (sorry, I hate therapy parlance). He’s only making himself look guilty by getting defensive. No wonder your gut’s in shambles.
The truth is I’ve been your boyfriend. More than once. I have this thing where it’s very easy for me to have sex with someone, immediately realize there’s nothing there, and remain lifelong pals as though they’ve never seen me naked. As though they wouldn’t dare picture me naked across the dinner table from my boyfriend and I. It’s a bit of selective naiveté, but we do it for the good of the friendship. In the past, when I wasn’t as mature, I enjoyed the petite thrill of knowing a friend might still want me and has to act very normal about it. (I just love a good subtext. I am a writer, after all.) There’s a chance your boyfriend has maintained relationships with these friends not because he wants them, but because he likes the feeling of being wanted and out of reach. That’s very human, but a slippery slope.
Overall, I believe this is a situation that can be worked through. And how he treats you throughout the process will tell you everything. Pay attention.
Great advice on making friends as an adult. When we’re younger, we’re bombarded with people and have a lot more opportunities to be social. When you get that job and apartment, that’s not so easy. Even for an introvert, I think at least a few of these tips are accessible.