Happy Friday!
I’m Annaliese Griffin, editor of the Quartz Daily Obsession.
In the past five years my husband and I have gone from being childless adults living in Brooklyn, to being parents of two small children who own a home in Vermont. Instead of near constant, unstructured hangouts with friends at bars, and long, leisurely dinner parties, we now have to check multiple family calendars, hire a babysitter, or even book flights to spend time with friends. For me, it’s been the most challenging part of having children.
The change from the easy friendships you make in your 20s and 30s, sustained by late nights and casual proximity, hit me hard when my life became more a more complex balance of responsibilities. I’ve decided that nurturing friendships is the key to warding off the modern mid-life crisis, which is very much in the news right now, with the publication of Why We Can’t Sleep, Women’s New Mid-Life Crisis by Ada Calhoun, and the annoyingly specific finding by an economist at Dartmouth College that 47.2 years old is the least happy moment in life. In any case, I’m going to spend a lot more time with friends in 2020, and I’ve been actively working on strategies to stay connected to my people.
Focus on old friends first. Friendships that once managed themselves now need structure. That’s doesn’t mean there’s an issue with the friendship, it’s just a logistics problem—which means it can be solved. A few months ago I realized that the mid-life friend problem wasn’t just me, and it’s not just an issue for parents. One of my closest friends has a life that I envy when I feel penned in by the demands of pre-schoolers. She and her boyfriend don’t plan on having kids. They’re financially stable, live in a city, and travel a ton for work and pleasure. So it surprised me when she told me that they too, had come to the conclusion that their friendships were lacking. After some forays into meeting new people they decided that they actually already had enough friends, they just needed to figure out new ways to connect with them and stay in touch.
When we had this conversation she and I had let more than a year go by without seeing each other, a first in our friendship of more than 20 years. So we made a plan: twice a year we meet up somewhere for two or three nights, work during the day and then go out at night. We’re lucky enough to both have flexible schedules that allow us to work remotely, and the resources to travel, so that’s our solution. It’s not so much the specifics though, as the fact of the plan itself—a monthly dinner, a scheduled phone call that you don’t blow off, an annual road-trip, all of these are solid ways to spend time together. I’m also planning a joint vacation with old friends who have kids about the same age as mine. The other mom, and co-planner, pointed out that the anticipation around and planning of a vacation can be just as satisfying as the trip itself, so I’m already looking forward to picking out a house to rent and researching hikes suitable for two wild 5-year-olds.
Then put yourself out there. I’ve worked hard to make peace with the idea that most of my closest friends don’t live nearby, and that spending time together requires planning. But I still want to have people to invite over to a barbecue, or chat with in the grocery store. Quartz reporter Katherine Foley found community with fellow runners in a November Project group. I’ve made friends at a co-working space, a parenting group, volunteering, and by saying yes to every invitation.
I got invited to a party where I will likely only know the hosts this weekend and I can’t find a babysitter, so I have to leave my husband at home and go alone. Even as an extrovert, and a reporter to boot, I find this terrifying. So I re-read Quartz reporter Sarah Todd’s recent Obsession on the art of conversation, and then googled “how to go to a party alone.” Lifehacker reminded me how to join conversations without being a creep, and Thought Catalogue reminded me that showing up is the one crucial step (and to wear a favorite outfit).
Embrace hosting by chilling out. I used to worry about combining friends from different parts of my life, and pleasing everyone who walks through my door. Then I realized that adults are responsible for themselves. Short of severe food allergies, I let dietary preferences, and personality differences, sort themselves out.
My new strategy for entertaining is to cast a broad net of invitations, be clear that kids are invited, and have an afternoon party with pretty much the same menu every time. In my house that’s homemade pizza, salad, seltzer, and wine. Indrani Sen, a former Quartz editor, has some slightly more ambitious ideas about how to pull-off a weeknight dinner party, that are still deliciously low-key.
Give your bestie a call, make a real plan to see a friend you’ve been meaning to reconnect with, get yourself back in the friendship game, and have a great weekend while you’re at it.
A little bit Alexis. I still sometimes feel like a fish out of water living in a small town. There’s a whole cottage industry in essays about how Parks & Recreation saved writers from depression and despair, but Schitt’s Creek feels more like my version of TV therapy. The premise is that a rich family loses their wealth and is forced to move to a small town, going from a gilded mansion to a dumpy hotel suite. Watching the Roses grow and change into better humans not in spite of, but because of their change in circumstances has been unexpectedly moving, and I’ve come to love these ridiculous, preening, tender-hearted characters. It’s also laugh-outloud-funny. The sixth and final season is currently airing on CBC in Canada, and will arrive on Netflix, where you can watch seasons 1-5 right now, sometime later this year.