Where Do Adults Even Make Friends?

Because apparently making friends as an adult requires running shoes, small talk, and a car — and I have none of the above.

I’m not really sure how to start this one off. Basically, I want to talk about loneliness as a twenty-six-year-old. I genuinely think it’s an epidemic, one that gets spoken about, sure, but never really solved.

I don’t know what clubs there are to join near me that don’t involve some form of sports. I’m not a sporty girl. I don’t really want to join a book club either because I’m not a super fast reader, and I don’t want to spend my free time forcing my way through someone else’s book choice. And no, I don’t want to join your running club. I’d die. So where does that leave me?

I also don’t drive and live in a small village, which, as you can imagine, isn’t exactly good for the cause. I joined a Pilates class recently (don’t even get me started), but I’m the youngest by at least ten years, so that hasn’t really worked out for the social life.

Quick disclaimer, all words are my own (yes really. It’s not a copy and paste jobby). Some of the images, though? Courtesy of ChatGPT. Controversial, I know. My creative skills only go so far.

At the start of the year, I got a new job and made a great new friend — one of those people who makes Mondays feel bearable. But then we both moved on to different jobs, and it fizzled. Not in a bad way, just in a life happens kind of way.

And now, here I am again. Trying to figure out where adults actually meet people when they’re not at uni, not clubbing every weekend, and not running marathons for fun.

Maybe one day I’ll find my people. For now, it’s me, my coffee, and a very committed Pilates attendance record.