Making New Friends as an Adult: Why It’s So Much Harder Than We Think

There is a particular kind of awkwardness that comes with making friends as an adult.

As children, it was easy. You sat next to someone in class. You played on the same soccer team. You ended up at the same lunch table. Friendship happened because life put you in the same place, over and over again.

Then adulthood happened.

Work became the place where we saw people regularly. Our children’s schools introduced us to other parents. Neighborhoods, volunteer commitments, religious communities, and family routines filled the calendar.

And then, sometimes, those structures change.

The kids leave.

You retire.

You move to a new city.

You change jobs.

A relationship ends.

Or you simply wake up one day and realize that the people you love are still there—but your daily opportunities to see them aren't.

Nothing is necessarily wrong. But something feels different.

And suddenly, making a new friend feels strangely complicated.

We have forgotten how to be beginners

One of the things I love about museums is that they give us permission to be curious.

You don't have to know the artist.

You don't have to understand the period.

You can stand in front of a painting and say, “I don't know what I'm looking at, but I like that part.”

Someone else might say, “Really? I hate that part.”

And suddenly you're having a conversation.

There is something wonderfully freeing about having a shared experience that gives you something to talk about.

I think this is one reason adults often find it easier to connect while doing something rather than simply being told to “go meet people.”

Give us a museum.

Give us a Mahjong table.

Give us a craft project.

Give us a book.

Give us a place to wander.

Then let conversation happen.

The activity is sometimes just the excuse

At P.S. Nest, I've been thinking a lot about this.

People don't necessarily need more networking events.

They don't necessarily need another cocktail party where everyone stands around holding a drink and trying to remember someone's name.

Sometimes we just need a reason to gather.

Mahjong works beautifully because everyone has something to do with their hands. You're learning, thinking, laughing, asking questions, and occasionally wondering why everyone else seems to know what they're doing.

Museums work for a similar reason.

You're standing next to someone looking at a painting.

“What do you see?”

“I have no idea.”

“I kind of love it.”

“Me too.”

And there you are.

Conversation has begun.

Maybe you're in a new chapter

I've met many people who are perfectly capable of filling a calendar but are looking for something more meaningful to put on it.

Maybe you're new to Washington and haven't yet found your people.

Maybe you're an empty nester and your life suddenly feels quieter.

Maybe you've retired and discovered that the colleagues you saw every day don't automatically become your Tuesday-afternoon friends.

Maybe you've lived in Washington for twenty years and realized there are still dozens of places you've never visited.

Or maybe you simply want to meet interesting people without having to announce that you're trying to meet interesting people.

I understand that.

Connection doesn't have to be complicated

I don't think connection always arrives through a grand gesture.

Sometimes it looks like coffee after a museum visit.

Sometimes it's learning Mahjong with someone who was a stranger an hour earlier.

Sometimes it's discovering that the person sitting across from you also loves nineteenth-century houses.

Sometimes it's laughing because neither of you can remember whose turn it is.

Sometimes it's simply having somewhere to be on a Tuesday afternoon.

That's the kind of connection I'm interested in creating through P.S. Nest.

Not forced.

Not awkward.

Not overly earnest.

Just interesting things to do, good places to go, and opportunities to meet people along the way.

Because making new friends as an adult may be harder than it was when we were eight.

But perhaps we just need better places to meet.

And a little more permission to be curious.

P.S. If you're ready to get out, explore Washington, and see who you might meet along the way, I'd love to have you join me.