The Perfect Blendship

Ah loddle-oddle-oddle hep hep hep.

On a recent frigid, blusterous, witching hour trek to the train from one of my hobbies - the kind of short modern journey that still somehow makes you feel like Jane Eyre out on the moors - I had a conversation with someone I know from that space on forming connections in different parts of life.

“I’m not there to make friends,” this person admitted. “I like a lot of the people and I want to be friendly with them, but just like with my job, when I leave and go back to my real life, I leave those connections until the next time.”

In some ways, this really resonated with me. I’m relatively open to friends in most spaces and I’m accustomed to working with friends, but I don’t engage in hobbies - or anything - with the intention of making friends. Many people do and it makes sense. Forming meaningful friendships as an adult can be difficult, and as children we’re socially conditioned in structured groups (school, sports, dance, et cetera), so there’s a comfortable familiarity for how to form bonds in those settings.

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As a child, I had an extraordinarily full social life outside of school. My parents are creatives and they had a large social circle of fellow creatives who also had children - those children were my closest friends in my formative years. I had a friend group in school and also made sure to be friendly with people in every social group, for general middle school survival reasons, but they were always my “school friends.” When I left those buildings, I returned to my real life. I didn’t initially learn how to form friends in structured settings, I learned to form friends at music festivals while playing on truck beds with free range children with names like Rainbow and Starship.

For me, pastimes are so I can learn a new skill or improve an existing one, enhance my creativity, and/or stay physically active. If I do not socialize with anybody the entire time, I’m perfectly happy. (As an introvert with a low social battery, sometimes that is what I’m seeking.) If I socialize with folks but don’t talk to or see them outside of the context in which we know each other, that’s great. If I form bonds that ultimately extend to a friendship beyond the space we share, how fun and unexpected.

Recently a friend was telling me about their struggles forming connections in a hobby space, one I’m familiar with although I’m there less frequently, and am also less engaged in it socially. (Surprise, surprise.) My friend felt like one person in particular is gatekeeping friendship for them from a small clique that has formed. And you know what? It’s very likely that is exactly what is happening. There’s a nearly 20 year age gap between my friend and this other person and a lot of personality differences, however, so my question ultimately boiled down to this: “Do you genuinely want to be their friend? Or do you just want them to want to be your friend?”

Not to negate that it hurts to feel left out, but in situations where you don’t feel a genuinely strong connection with the person doing so, it’s a good reminder that it isn’t really a loss. Life is duality: two things can be true. Your ego can absolutely feel bruised at the lack of invite to group hangs, and you can know you’re probably better off having that time to pour into another passion, to spend with people who feel more truly aligned in your life, or with yourself.

Human connection is so important. It’s also unpredictable. It evolves over time. People move and people change. So do we.

When I was nineteen or so, I was on my first summerstock theatre contract. It was a magical Kentucky summer of bluegrass, sunshine, clandestine make outs, long drives, wild hair, and midnight mischief. In any situation where everyone present is removed from their home environment for a prolonged period of time, it’s typical to form deep bonds. You’re spending all of your time together. You’re practically or sometimes literally living together. You’re working together. Your world is centered around the art you’re making. In most cases, none of your real life friends or family are there with you. It’s intense and bonds happen fast.

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But just as fast as they form, the summer is over. Or the film wraps. You go back to your life, they go back to theirs. Maybe you live in the same city, maybe you don’t. It’s deeply impermanent. During that perfect summer I was chatting with an older actor about all of these beautiful connections I was experiencing.

“Enjoy it. Embrace it. Be present for it all. And when this is over, be okay with knowing you’ll never see some of these people again, even though it feels right now like you can’t even breathe without them.”

Logically I knew they were right, and I took that advice to heart, and I apply it to experiences to this day. It was difficult to imagine we weren’t all bonded for life, but we weren’t. There’s one friendship that has endured in a very real way these past 20+ years, a few I follow on social media but haven’t spoken to in over a decade, and the rest faded into sweet, sunkissed memories.

Social media makes us feel like everyone is having fun, everyone is hanging out without us, and perhaps worst of all, that we should never let go of anyone. It also conflates parasocial relationships with true friendship.

We feel like we’re staying in touch with people, but we’re simply consuming information they’re sharing with the masses.

I try not to watch the Instagram stories of my closest friends too habitually, because I want to hear what is going on in their lives from them directly, in an intimate and meaningful way, when we’re being intentional about connecting. Friendship is so much more than likes and shares.

Can friendships begin on social media? Absolutely, it has happened to me numerous times. I met one of my best friends from adolescence in theatre camp, and I met the other in an X-Files chatroom. Coincidentally, they went to the same school. We’re all still friends to this day.

However, as much as social media can bring people together, the parasocial nature can and does inhibit true connection. Whenever I feel the urge to simply like a friend’s post and leave a few emojis, I ask myself, “When is the last time we connected outside of social media?” Maybe instead of - or at least in addition to - sending emojis into the void, it’s time to text them how proud I am of them for their new project, and try to set up a time to catch up over tea, see a show, or go on a random day trip adventure.

While social media can inadvertently create distance between real friendships, the parasocial aspect can also create a false sense of intimacy for someone who is an acquaintance, or people we don’t even know. People perceive themselves to have deeper friendships than exist because they’re consuming information that would be shared in a friendship, forgetting that it isn’t a one-on-one exchange. They’re experiencing it as emotional intimacy, but it isn’t. It’s content.

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A few years ago when navigating a health situation, I joined a small peer-to-peer support group put together by someone who is now a friend, as are the other people from the group. I didn’t join with the intention of making any real friends. In fact, one of the reasons many of us joined is because we needed people to rant to and spiral with between therapy sessions in order to protect and preserve our existing relationships. Moving our connection into our real lives was slow and careful.

Eventually, we all exchanged social media handles, a gentle foray into who we were as people outside of this group, outside of our shared health issue. A little while after that, we exchanged phone numbers, and a group chat was started. Over time, we finally started indicating a desire to meet each other in person.

We’re in different cities for the most part, but we make it a point to see each other when in town. One person has become one of my go-to friends to stay with when I’m in their city, where I once lived. Another is my “podcast partner,” a joke for how we voice memo the mundane elements of life back and forth to each other all day every day. When a friend from our group passed away last year, we leaned on each other for support, and that person’s loss is felt in a real way every single day. There’s a gaping wound in our friend group now and we’re still finding our group dynamic without them.

You. Me. Us. I feel like there’s a vibe.

I can generally tell immediately from someone’s energy if we’re compatible in friendship, or for the nature of the potential connection, whatever it may be. Chemistry is required in friendships too. The spark is present and palpable. I allow myself to trust it and move in that direction. When it isn’t there I’ll always try to be friendly and cordial, without leading anyone on.

When people ask me how I found a surgeon I needed a few years ago, my reply is, “I went on vibes.” I set up meetings with a few highly skilled and recommended surgeons, and I rolled with the one with whom I felt a connection. It was a two-part surgery with many visits in between, some of them on a weekly basis, so it had to be a person I enjoyed being around.

I met a friend of nearly 15 years because they are the sibling of a former romantic partner of mine. While that former partner and I no longer speak, their sibling and I have taken great care to continue our friendship beyond how we know each other. I knew the moment I met them our energies were a better match than the relationship I was in, and while there was never a guarantee we could be friends when I stopped dating their sibling, I never doubted I would want that.

Years ago I was a member of a women’s social club. Prior to in-house events, they often had someone guide the attending members through some sort of ice breaker activity. If you know me, you know I loathe ice breakers in an intense and honestly disproportionate manner. I completely understand many people need them and enjoy them, but I am not one of those people. It feels too inorganic, too forced, like there’s no breathing room to discover connections in a more grounded way, rooted in genuine curiosity.

For what it’s worth, I never found real connection through those ice breakers, either. It won’t surprise you to learn forming new friendships wasn’t on my list of reasons why I joined the club - I was drawn to the events and amenities - but the friends I did make were never the result of an ice breaker. We simply found ourselves connecting over something weird and wonderful, with compatible energies, so we continued a relationship beyond the Millennial pink walls.

My goal is to remain open without expectation. It has generally served me well. It doesn’t mean my feelings don’t get hurt sometimes. It just means I’m very happy doing my own thing. I’m equally thrilled to have company. I believe in investing time, care, and thoughtfulness into nurturing all of my relationships. If there’s a lack of reciprocity that cannot be resolved, I allow the energies to shift where they need to go.

The only permanent thing in life is impermanence, after all.