Adult Friendships Are Basically Dating
It's been three weeks since my husband deployed.
Most days have been spent staring at my laptop, applying for jobs, building Studio Artisan Sky, chasing clients, watching K-dramas, squeezing in workouts, and trying to convince myself that I'm doing okay.
To be fair, I was already running on fumes before he left.
Then on May 14, I got laid off.
Suddenly I found myself floating somewhere between survival mode and burnout. Between needing to find a job and needing a break. Between wanting to move forward and wanting to hide under a blanket for a week.
What I didn't realize was how much loneliness would sneak up on me.
When you're busy, you can ignore it.
You can answer emails, update your portfolio, redesign your website, watch another episode, organize another folder, clean another room.
But eventually the day ends.
And there's nobody to talk to.
Nobody to grab coffee with.
Nobody to text and ask, "Hey, want to go somewhere?"
Nobody who understands what it's like to leave
behind an entire life and start over somewhere new.
Migration grief is real.
Nobody really prepares you for that part.
You miss your old life, but when you go back, it doesn't fit the same way anymore.
You miss the version of yourself that existed there, but you know you've changed too.
I'm not fully settled in Japan.
But when I'm in the Philippines, I feel like one foot is already out the door.
It's a strange place to exist, between worlds.
So one day I thought: Screw it.
Let's try.
I posted in a spouses' community group and basically admitted that I wanted friends.
Not networking.
Not business connections.
Not another LinkedIn contact.
Friends.
Actual human beings.
The response?
A lot of likes.
A handful of comments.
And exactly three people willing to genuinely connect.
Three.
"Damn," I thought.
Adult friendships are hard.
Back home, I had more friends than I could count.
Different friends for different things.
Friends for coffee.
Friends for travel.
Friends for business ideas.
Friends for random Tuesday dinners.
Friends I hadn't seen in months but could call at midnight if something happened.
Sometimes our schedules were so full that finding a date to meet felt harder than booking a doctor appointment.
Now here I am in Japan, excited because three strangers said hello.
Life is funny that way.
And it got me thinking.
Adult friendships are basically dating.
You put yourself out there.
You wonder if people will like you.
You exchange messages.
You see if the conversation flows.
You figure out if your personalities click.
You hope they're not weird.
They hope you're not weird.
You try meeting up.
Maybe it works.
Maybe it doesn't.
Maybe you discover you have absolutely
nothing in common except living in the same city.
Or maybe you find someone who just gets it.
Someone who understands what it's like to be far from home.
Someone who can sit in a café with you for two hours talking about absolutely nothing.
Someone who makes a foreign place feel a little less foreign.
The older I get, the more I realize friendship isn't about how many people you know.
It's about finding the people who fit.
The people whose energy feels easy.
The people you don't have to perform for.
The people who make you feel more like yourself.
So maybe that's where I am right now.
Not building a huge social circle.
Not trying to collect friends.