Just make new friends as an adult, they said — A poem

Fails are fuel for creative content, right?

It can’t be just me. You grow apart from your high school friends, live in different countries, they breed, you don’t. You quit your job to freelance, alone. Then you wake up in your late thirties to the cold realisation that you don’t have anyone to share a cacao with on the full moon.

It kinda creeps up on you. It’s not something I planned, and let me assure you, it’s not because I’m not a good friend. Well, I think I am anyway. I’m compassionate, considerate, a good listener and space holder. Uh oh. This story is suddenly at risk of becoming a Friend Wanted application.

After another solo cacao I committed to putting myself ‘out there’. Surely other people are in the market for new mates, right? It’s been comforting to meet many others in my situation, though that illusive instant connection is as rare as a Tinder profile picture without a fish.

As with all experiences relating to matters of the heart, the silver lining is fuel for creative expression…

On a recent friend first date, we met at a park for a coffee. There was no coffee in the end. We began with a walk of the gardens and all seemed well. I asked her about her day and what she does for work. After filling me in, she then asked me what I did for work. Maybe it was something I said because that was the last question she asked me.

We then proceeded to walk the grounds for one and a half hours.

I like to think of a conversation as an equal exchange, a back and forth between interested parties. So after each of my questions were answered, I left long pauses or silences, to give her the chance to say, “…and you?”. But it never came.

Reflecting on my words it sounds as if I only want a friendship for what I can get from it, rather than enjoying others for who they are. This is not the case. I find people interesting and intriguing. I guess I long for reciprocity.

At the very least, this experience inspired the poem below.

Treading the stoney path of the garden together,

I ache for you to see me. To see into my soul, the person I am inside.

Yet you ask me no questions.

Is it because I am not of interest?

Is it because you are scared?

Where are you my friend, that friend who sees me deeply?

We speak of plans and changes to the year

You talk of your thoughts and your fears

I’m focused and listening to you

Yet you ask me no questions.

Is it because we’re not meant to be?

Is it that I can learn more from you?

Where are you my friend, that friend who sees me deeply?

The one who wants to know me too.

Thanks for reading. You rock.

© Copyright Rhiannon James, 2022