There was a time when I said yes to everything. Last-minute club nights, friends of friends’ birthdays, impromptu holidays with people I’d never met. I didn’t need to know who was going or what time we’d be home, if it sounded even vaguely fun and involved a drink, I was there. Lately, though, something’s shifted and my tolerance for new people has began to wane. There’s nothing worse than being in a room full of people you don’t like (especially when those people are your friend’s friends.)
In my opinion trying to mix all your friends together is like making Rachel’s trifle in Friends, layers of jam, custard and beef sautéed with peas and onions. Each part is great on its own, but mashed together it can only be described as unpleasant and perhaps slightly traumatic. I don’t want to explain what I do or pretend to be interested in what someone else does (unless it’s niche or mildly scandalous.) It’s like dating, only worse because at least with dating there’s the potential for a roll about at the end of the night.
But what if your friend is a group hang girl, you know the type? She lives for the spontaneous pub trip that turns into thirteen people drinking Aperol spritzes in the park. And every time you suggest hanging out, she responds with “That would be so nice 🙂 I’ll see if X, Y, and Z are free too!” Excuse me? Now I’m trying to think of an excuse for plans I suggested. As I’ve grown up, I’ve come to the consensus that often it’s better not to force group situations. I don’t need to introduce my yoga friend to my work friend to my school friend to my university friend and hope they all hit it off.
Because what no one tells you about these group hangs is how weird they can feel when you’re not really part of the group. You’re either being caught up on months of inside jokes and shared context, or you’re completely out of the loop while everyone talks around you about upcoming game nights, holidays, or memes you haven’t seen. It’s not really even anyone’s fault, it’s just the unspoken dynamics that emerge when you’re there, but not in. You can feel the social glue between them, and you can feel your absence of stickiness.
Maybe it’s not just age, or burnout, or some creeping antisocial streak. Perhaps it’s also the logistics of a life that feels a bit too small. All my stuff has to fit into one room (a room that I can never seem to get on top of.) I work full time, I commute, I try to keep my fridge stocked and my washing done, and at the end of the day, I’m just done. And there’s not much left in the tank for for being charming on cue.
I will always show up for the birthday meal or the big life event, I’m not a monster. Of course I’ll eat the overpriced set menu and split the bill evenly, even if I only had one glass of wine and no starter. But the day to day invites? Brunch with someone I barely know? I’m sitting that one out. So yes, I still love you. And I’ll be there when it matters. But I’m officially out of the casual group hangs.
Leave a Reply