how to not make friends as an adult (pt. 3)

a multi-part serial about the dangers of young adult friend groups - especially those made up of primarily couples

May 11, 2026

→ Read part 2 of this serial here.

→ Name/person key at the bottom of this article.

On the whole, I’m not so naïve as to think that we had found our soul couple in E and L. That the four of us would ride off into the San Diego sunset and live happily ever after with no outside interference and no other humans involved in our love story… nah.

E wasn’t necessarily my type, nothing wrong with that, except we couldn’t hold a conversation one-on-one for more than a few minutes. I was also growing increasingly concerned by the day at the dynamic unfolding between R and L. R was having me read and reread every text message before he sent it to L, and if L didn’t answer right away…. let’s just say I was having flashbacks to high school watching my friends agonize about the situationships that existed more in their heads than IRL.

Not to mention the drinking. We’d been hanging out for maybe 6 months at this point, and I’m not sure we’d been sober for any of it. It was making me sick; I didn’t even get drunk anymore, skipping straight to the headache and nausea stage instead.

So, the introduction to T & D wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Dilution could be just what we needed. Three couples felt balanced. Easier to hang out in smaller groups with less pressure, still small enough that we can reasonably go out in the world together without trouble.

I meet T, alongside E, at the same bar we went to on the first friend date. This time, there is a line to get in, so we’re making idle small talk together as we wait. T can’t stop talking about whatever I’m wearing, a nice compliment, but she seems insecure in her khakis and striped navy and white sweater.

E and T fill me in on their first hangout together, and I nod politely and appreciate their willingness to fill me in. But I’m feeling something build in my chest… maybe insecurity of my own, maybe an already-building frustration about how we can’t seem to get past the superficial.

When we finally get seated and place our drink orders, I declare, rather boldly, “So I don’t really care what you do for work, tell me about how you are fucked up from your childhood” (my inner bitch really winning out right off the bat, yikes). T is visibly taken aback at the question, and I have the presence of mind to clarify somewhat, “sorry, I just want to really know people and love to talk traumas, you don’t have to answer though.”

She sits there, undoubtedly trying to digest the socially acceptable way to proceed. E is looking off into the distance uncomfortably, but also with a small smirk on her face that told me she was happy I had made things weird before she could.

T tells me she isn’t really sure, “I don’t think I was all that fucked up by my childhood? I’m Ukrainian, so that’s something.” (We will come to discover that, as for everyone, this is distinctly untrue, but I can’t blame her for not wanting to share more with a stranger she has known for 15 minutes)

Reprieve in the form of our drinks comes, and we suck them down in thick silence for a few minutes until E chimes in and redirects the conversation back to T being a fan of the Bachelor, too. Woohoo.

Important context on me at this time, I am going through it personally with my family. My dad and I have been estranged for a few months at this point, but I’m still getting more than I bargained for in terms of information from my grandmother and my sister. So, unfortunately, family trauma is just on the brain.

I knew a bit about E’s mom being an alcoholic and their own strained relationship, so, being me but fortified by seeing the bottom of my glass, I steer the conversation back. This time to me.

I start trauma vomiting all over that table.

To their credit, a little alcohol lubricating their social capacity as well, they take in my stories with awe and polite reverie. But don’t offer much in reciprocation.

I go home frustrated.

I liked T, but she could’ve just as easily not been at that table for all I walked away knowing about her.

E texts me later, “Didn’t you love T?”

I guess?

Then we meet D. It’s at a late fall hangout around E and L’s patio firepit. Long hair, somewhat dopey (literally because he was high as F) expression, very Scandinavian look. The guys were calling him Haden, as in Christensen, which personally I didn’t see, but that gives you an idea.

T and D have been together for about 4 years at this point. They met on a dating app, went on a first date where T hated D, until he invited her abroad for a work trip — something of an insane thing to offer to a stranger — and she accepted because hey, free vacation.

They came back together, and I suppose you could say the rest was history. T was vegan, a bonding point we had in common as I was still vegan at this time too. T moved herself and D to San Diego a year ago when, in her words, D finally stopped being a religious conservative a-hole.

“Okay, D, elaborate for us, will you?” we prompt around the fire.

“Ya man, I was kind of the worst. Raised super catholic, but the kind of catholic where I hated gay people and voted for Trump. It wasn’t really until I discovered weed that I started to realize how messed up that all was.”

Whoa okay here is some trauma lore to spice things up.

“When was this?” someone asks.

“Honestly, not even that long ago, I’ve been unraveling lies for a while now,” D responds with that same unbothered smile on his face.

I think we all agreed that it was pretty cool of him to admit, share, and work through. I liked D at first. I thought I could see that he got it. He, too, had been disillusioned by his upbringing, and it led him to the same place that led me.

T was showing her colors ever so slightly as the hang-outs wore on. We started to go to yoga together every week. Not exactly a talking activity, but we would chat before class started on our walk home. T loved to gossip. That much was pretty clear off the bat. I fueled her fire with my insistence on vulnerability as a means of creating connection.

These are my friends, I told myself, and somewhere along the way, I’ll share enough that they will be willing to share back.

Oof

Not a misguided mentality, really, but in this group of people, I essentially was shooting myself in the foot repeatedly.

On my 25th birthday, we were all going out. Starting at a bar nearby and then onto a rooftop sushi dinner downtown. R and I get to the bar early and are chatting while I wonder why everyone is so late. When they arrive, we squeeze into the booth and are merrily chatting and amping ourselves up for a night of shenanigans.

We are Ubering downtown from my apartment after because we need to feed our dog, Theo, so we head back there, and when we walk into the space, there are big birthday balloons and presents and cupcakes baked by E, and I feel so loved.

This is exactly what I hoped to find by making friends here. It felt like pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place.

My dad texts me the night of my birthday, asking if we can talk again. I tell him candidly no. For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling free and happy, and I don’t see how he fits into that right now.

It’s December, my favorite time of year, and I’m content to spend the season with my newfound family here.

R, L, and D are bros. Hanging out, watching football, getting high. E, T, and I are trying new pilates studios and coffee shops, we’re decorating our homes for Christmas, and I’m keeping up with the celebrity tea just for them.

Ya, it’s awkward still sometimes, but I’m confident in time that the weirdness will pass if we just keep logging hours together.

Sure, R keeps coming home drunk and kind of angry at something that he can’t seem to explain. He’s threatened by D joining the bro-mance between himself and L, but again, this too shall pass, right?

Friendship Key:

June - me
R - my husband (then boyfriend)

Together 7 years (at this point): socially awkward, a little co-dependent, generally great communication, hadn’t made new friends since the start of college.

Couple #1, E & L

E - first girl I met on Bumble BFF: basic & cheugy, very surface level, obsessed with T-Swift & The Bachelor
L - E’s boyfriend: a little dark, drinks too much, withholding, big unhealed trauma energy, gamer

Together 2 Years: E made the rules. L probably didn’t like her. Group kingpins, and they liked it that way. Big spenders,

Couple #2, T & D:

T - girl E met on Bumble BFF: quiet, shy, cat lover, probably closeted gay
D - T’s boyfriend: always high, long hair, deadbeat

Together 5 years: Foodies, travelers, kind of boring. BIG malicious gossips. Big spenders.

Couple #3, C & S:

C - E’s semi-friend from college: friendly, impersonal, cat lover
S - C’s boyfriend: chatty in a foot-in-mouth kind of way, short and overcompensating for it, obnoxious, unclear if he’s all that into C.

Together, 1 year maybe: travelers, goofy, frugal.

anyway, here it is…

-June

I invite you to stay and be seen here.