Thursday, July 24, 2014

Mission Impossible? Making Friends in Your Thirties...

Here we are, in another new city.  This time it's for good.  A thousand miles away from friends and family, I find this 4th of July a little lonelier than the last.  As I watch the parade with my little family of three, I can't help but feel a tad bit jealous of the large groups of friends and families lining the streets.  The children who have their doting grandparents watching their every move.  The women sharing stories over a morning cup of coffee.  I look at my beautiful girl and wonder will she ever have a 'village' to help raise her?  Will we spend all of our holidays alone, or will we someday be hosting a backyard bbq for friends and neighbors?

Making friends in your thirties is hard.  It took five years in the last place we lived to make enough friends to throw a small get-together.  It seems as though there are two groups of people here - those who were born and raised here surrounded by friends and family, and those who miraculously found a circle of friends by chance, luck, or possibly bribery.  Neither seem to be looking for more.

Typically the first friends (or at least acquaintances) you make when you move out-of-state, are those at work.  Big fat negative here.  My husband and I own the company.  We are the bosses.  We were already taught the lesson that you can't be friends with your employees.  It creates tension.  The other crew members feel as though your 'friend' is being favored.  Your 'friend' starts to take advantage, with the thought that your relationship excuses even the worst on-the-job infractions.  Even if it's a "top-secret" friendship, they won't be able to hide it. 

I've considered hitting the web in search of friends, but don't want to seem too desperate.  What could I, someone who was constantly surrounded by 'besties,' have in common with someone looking for friends online?  It's too risky.  With all the cat-ladies and crazies out there, I can't imagine sifting through the nut-jobs until I find one I might actually like.

When I enrolled my child in daycare, our reality hit home.  On the bottom of the registration form, there was a nice little section dedicated to "Emergency Contacts."  In fine print, the daycare specified that emergency contacts must be within 25 miles of the center.  Huh.  That's right.  Most 'normal' people have someone who can come rescue their child within a reasonable amount of time should something happen and Mom and Dad be unreachable.  For me, it was my grandmother.  She was my savior during every belly-ache (whether real or pretend) for thirteen years.  Embarrassingly, I left the section blank.  Surely my husband and I both won't die at the same time, so one of us can come pick up our child.

So by now it must be obvious that what I'm doing certainly isn't working.  My question to you is, where should I go from here?