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Overthinking – that’s the problem with making friends as you get older.
What if the other person doesn’t like me?
What if I’m a bit socially awkward?
What if I accidentally befriend someone who’s into unusual hobbies like bondage or anti-vaxxing?
But as a woman who became instantly Nigel No Friends after moving out of the city and into the sticks at the age of 35, with a child in tow and another on the way, I was adamant that our relocation wasn’t going to result in a long-term friendless situation.
Why? Because I’ve always loved being surrounded by friends. I’ve lived without a man, a mortgage, my family (who’ve always lived overseas) and even without a job for a brief stint in 2012, and I’ve always survived. But the thought of no close confidants makes my heart sag a little.
So, I was on a mission. A one-woman mission, let’s call it, to find some friends and stat. And this is what I did: I went to the beach with my son and my baby bump, whacked on my friendliest smile and started striking up conversation after conversation with complete, utter strangers.
Yes, gasp, strangers!
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