I’ve been in New York City for 58 days now. 58 days of the constant aroma of garbage, overcrowded subways, and far too many overpriced coffees. It has also been 58 days of not making a single friend. I don’t mean a “single friend” as in a friend that’s not in a relationship, I mean I haven’t made any friends. I’ve made acquaintances, sure. People that don’t remember my name and I don’t remember theirs, but we say hi to each other on the elevator and in the halls because it would be uncomfortable if we didn’t.
When it comes to making friends, I have never been exceptionally talented. I would like to think that I am approachable and friendly, but I’m also terribly awkward. Maybe this has something to do with my lack of friends? Maybe they’re meeting me but I’m too unbearable to be around. See, this is what being lonely does to me. I overthink everything and start to believe the reason I don’t have any friends is because I’m unlikeable. I guess this could be true. Maybe I smell bad or I talk too quietly or I’m too scatter brained or I’m too quirky. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. This loneliness and lack of friendship has taken a huge toll on me.
I’m not someone who has lots of friends or always has plans, but I typically have at least one or two friends wherever I go. Being alone has made me more self-conscious and sadder than I have been in a while. Since in New York, I have eaten every meal alone. I go to bookstores alone and I ride the subway and train alone. I visit tourist attractions and listen to live music alone. I go to bars and comedy clubs by myself, which isn’t the best idea, but I don’t want to miss out on what the city has to offer just because I don’t have anyone to go with. As much as my involuntary isolation has drained me, it does have a few positives.
I feel like doing everything by myself has made me grow up more. I’m not afraid to talk to strangers*, I don’t care if I need to ask someone around me how to get somewhere or find something, going to the laundromat with a book is just as good as going and sitting with a friend, and you can laugh at jokes in comedy clubs without having to explain them to a friend when they don’t understand.
*IF YOU ARE A CHILD** AND YOU ARE READING THIS, TALKING TO STRANGERS IS BAD. **WHY ARE YOU READING THIS? HOW DID YOU FIND THIS BLOG? WHERE ARE YOUR PARENTS?
58 days have passed, and I have 22 days left. Will I make a friend in the next 22 days? It’s hard to say. The only thing I’m certain about is the experiences I’ve had and the memories I’ve made this summer far surpass any friendship I could have imagined.
Natalie
For what it's worth 