For those who know me, it is probably no surprise that I am sometimes sad. It may be surprising, however, that I can count the number of friends I communicate with regularly on my fingers. On one hand. (This is not surprising to whoever reviewed the psych eval I had to do for work, which showed that I can analyze data, make awesome plans, and come up with big ideas, but am not great at “working in groups.”)
Nevertheless, I actually enjoy time with people. An hour once a week spent enjoying a glass of wine with a friend is a necessity for me to feel even-keel and happy. Adult friends, though, are nearly impossible to find when you are a childless almost-30 year old who tends to pack up and move away.
Moving is hard, y’all. Being an adult is hard.
And I’m sure that for Grant, knowing that I am sad and that there is very little he can do about it, is hard. (Bless the man, he does try, but he would rather rent a movie and get takeout than go out. It takes all sorts.)
I’ve found myself saying more than once this week, “I just wanna go hooo-oooome,” while crying in my car, or in Grant’s office, or on the couch. Of course, I’m not even entirely sure where that is anymore. I mean Batesville, but that didn’t really feel like home either. (Though I would love to have Tuesday wine nights with Laura back in my life.) It can’t mean Ft. Wayne. Even though that’s where my family is, it’s certainly not where any of my friends are. It’s probably not Chicago. My life there was good, but it was the life of a student. It wasn’t home.
The people I know and love have scattered to the four winds as much as I have. So how do you do it? How do you make new friends as an adult? At my age, it seems like everyone has kids, and that runs their lives. How do you meet people when you don’t know where to go or what to do? And how do you keep them with you, when you know your location is only temporary?
Because you can only drink so much wine alone before you’re just a wino.