how to not make friends as an adult (pt. 4)

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

May 18, 2026

→ Read part 3 of this serial here.

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

Safe to say puppy parenting duty had sufficiently worn us out. Juniper was a monster. Now I love dogs far, far more than the average, but she was a nightmare.

That’s what they say, right? If you have the perfect first child, your second will do you in.

Juniper, maybe in true like mother like daughter fashion, could not be contained. I spent the first month of her life sleeping next to her crate on our hard wooden floor with a hand awkwardly wedged between the metal bars and her nose pressed up against me like I was the only source of oxygen left to her. Drama. Queen.

Like a true baby, for one hour a day, she’d be left in silence to nap peacefully in her crate. We’d play soft classical music and had the white noise machine going, and I’d wait until she was practically twitching in sleep to leave the room. But the minute that door would shut, her screaming would begin.

This is not a traumatized dog. This is a born-and-bred princess. She knew what she wanted from day one, and if you’ve seen her face, then you know she deserves it.

Once I caved on floor sleeping, we tried to start anew. We moved her crate into the living room and made it a haven of snuggly toys and hidden treats. It was available to her all day long, and at night she would be shut in while someone slept next to her, but this time on the couch.

Needless to say, we were exhausted. Between this inconsolable little demon we’d invited into our home and the wake of destruction she left behind each day, trying to stay relevant in our new-ish friend group, my familial estrangement, and the recent passing of my older brother, it’s fair to say we didn’t need more new faces to enter our orbit.

Yet we gave in to E’s pleading with us to meet C & S, and I appreciated the accommodations she made to help us get baby Juniper to the function so we didn’t have to rush home after an hour.

“It’ll be super lowkey, everyone is bringing a board game, you should bring Stir the Pot again, that was so fun.. okay, see you tonight!”

We were a little desperate for a parents’ night out. So we packed up the doggy playpen, the pee-absorbent blankets, and the pile of entertainment chew toys we’d amassed, and piled into the car, puppy in tow, sweet Theo thrilled as we were to be leaving the house on an adventure.

We set up Juniper’s dog jail, and Theo ran off with little 8lb terrier-mix, Cinnamon, and we graciously accepted glasses of wine before taking our spots on E’s oversized brown sofa. T & D were already there, and T immediately started grilling me on puppy parenting and how tired I looked. D gave R a hazy nod and a wan smile but otherwise remained unmoving.

E, ever the hostess, was puttering in her kitchen, and L picked up a quick conversation with R about how he was missing their klepto-shenanigans and something about their upcoming trip to LA to see a football game, L’s gift to R for his recently passed birthday.

We hear footsteps and chatter from outside, and E runs to the door to greet C & S and facilitate the introductions.

C is plain, friendly, and looks a tad shy to be walking into a room where it’s clear everyone else feels right at home.

S is short and also somewhat plain (which is terrible to say of someone, I know, but of this entire group, these are the two who ultimately had the least impact on my memory), and a little too eager as he sizes up the space.

We make polite hellos, and they accept wine glasses of their own as they find spots on the C-shaped sofa. If we went around from left to right, the arrangement would go: R, me, S, C, E, T, & D - L seated on the floor facing us all. This will come to matter.

R is uncomfortable beside me. He’s usually suspicious of new faces, but I think he might be picking up on the same oddly forward and slightly obnoxious energy radiating off S. To be fair, in these initial moments, it is all a little awkward — because how could it not be — and I’ll let you in on a little secret: this is a group that never would’ve come about organically. Thank you to the divine intervention that is Bumble (and Hinge, which brought all three couples together, save for R and myself).

We play a few of the games, and then come back to good ole Stir the Pot. I’ll let you in on the general premise: It’s similar to Cards Against Humanity in that you have a large deck of cards, each of which says something on it like “who is the most likely to…” or “who do you think has….”

When it’s your turn, you pick up a card and read it privately. Then you point at someone in the group, mind you, no one knows why you’ve chosen this person, as only you have seen the card in question up until this point.

Then you flip a coin in which the two sides say to either Tell or Don’t Tell. In the event of a Tell, you reveal the card to everyone in the room, thus explaining why you chose that person. In the event of a Don’t Tell, you show the card to everyone in the group except the person you pointed at. Then you hand them the card face down to be revealed later.

In a group of people you know intimately — and friends only, as this is not a family-friendly deck of cards — I recommend this game 10/10 times. However, if you find yourself in a group of insecure, partial strangers, the game can only function on appearance-based assumptions. And you know what they say about judging a book by its cover…

The game begins.

This was over two years ago, and I’d be insane to remember the full gameplay and how it unfolded, but I will tell you that we got 85% Don’t Tells flipped, much to everyone’s enjoyment, and for some reason, S, seated beside me, liked to pick on me.

Slightly odd considering we hadn’t even spoken more than a polite “hi, nice to meet you” in the three hours we’d been seated next to one another, but okay, sure.

Every time he pulled a card, he pointed at me, flipped a Don’t Tell, revealed the card to the group to general gasps and snickers, always eliciting a tight-lipped stare from R beside me, and the game continued.

You play until you have all had enough, and let me tell you, I had quite a stack of unrevealed cards in my pile by the time we called uncle. Everyone had been talking about how they couldn’t wait to see my reaction as I revealed my cards, particularly the ones from S.

Slowly, I flip them one after another, a few nondescript generic ones with no offense intended or taken. One about how I was the most likely to dye my hair, change my name, and run away, valid. Then an odd one, “most likely to not be wearing underwear right now,” from none other than my new friend S, his girlfriend seated right beside him. Everyone giggles, so I giggle too, not reading too much into it.

Then I flip the next card from S, “Who here do you think has slept with the most people?” (??)

Then another, “Who is secretly the kinkiest” (???)

Then another, “Who is the most likely to sell feet pics for money" (????)

Dare I go on…

This man, a complete and utter stranger to me, was out here making some WILD accusations. And I promise you that no one else had cards even remotely as wild as these awaiting them, because, in good common sense, we had allowed skipping of cards that didn’t make sense in a room of couples.

These were cards this man willingly chose to give to me AND to reveal to his girlfriend, and my then-boyfriend of 7 years.

Nice to meet you, too, S.

Nothing I learned or heard about S, even after this day, made me like him any more.

Starting with his birthday a few months later. He wanted us all to go to the San Diego Wave FC game starting at midday tailgate in their parking lot. We all went to C & S’s apartment and, in two cars, drove over to the lot, everyone ignoring my questions about how exactly we planned to get home later.

At this point, I wasn’t drinking and was already facing the social consequences of this decision, and I don’t just mean that you’re unlikely to find me at a sporting event and certainly not soberly.

But we were deep in the trenches of this group situationship now. R was a mess, for lack of a better way to explain things; his actions were now fully rooted in his insecurity about losing his top-of-the-totem status as L’s preferred bestie. E and T were catching on that I might not be like them, my mask slipping as the hangouts wore on my psyche and my insecurities too.

So here we were, pulling into the Waves parking lot, the men already hammered at 3 PM (women opting to be the DDs - on the way there, that is). We pull up and unload a liquor store’s worth of buzz balls, pre-mixed margs, beer, nips, and who knows what else. A table for pong, because though I was by far the youngest of this group, some of the older crowd among us still felt it necessary to relive the glory days of college (*cough* L & S *cough*).

By the time the horn buzzed and the gates opened to the stadium, there simply was no point. 66% of this group was not going to remember the rest of this day in the slightest. L made a running leap onto R’s back from behind out of nowhere, sending them both tumbling to the pavement, and subsequently, though we didn’t know it yet, fracturing R’s rib. And onward we marched to our seats, ladies in one row, boys behind— but not before immediately disappearing for more beer first. Most of my female companions launched into semi-incoherent babbling gossip (about who? considering everyone collectively knew was right there). I yawned and checked my watch. 5:30PM.

It’s going to be a long night.

I popped the 2.5mg weed gummy I stashed in my bag to take the edge off my suffocating social anxiety. The men got louder as they got drunker, to the point where an attendant came twice in a vain effort to get them to please shut the fuck up.

It seemed like the game would never end; none of our group had any idea what was even happening in the match. E, T, and C were pouring over some celebrities' Instagram, and I was trying to get R’s attention so he would go with me to get food (and some much-needed air), but unfortunately, being drunk in this particular crowd made R uncharacteristically mean. He told me to go get one myself and bring him another beer (something he would never do before or after this period). Fuck him.

We had to carry our men out. They could barely remain upright, let alone form full sentences, let alone remember where the cars were parked, let alone listen to the utter insistence that I would be getting in NO ONE’s car under these conditions.

I pull R aside and give it to him straight. I’m not dying tonight, and neither is he. We’re Ubering.

“No nooooo, we’re fine, it’s fine. Can’t you drive, you’re sober?” he slurs at me while flipping L off behind my back and laughing.

“Um, absolutely fucking not. I took a weed gummy, and none of those girls are sober either.”

“You took that hours ago…”

“Are you hearing yourself?!”

Clearly not, because he wandered over to the boys and offered to let me drive S’s car home. T, light drinker and objectively most sober, or so she insists, will drive the girls.

I stand my ground. Nope. But I volunteered to pay for our Uber because I’m getting desperate.

Then it is 4-on-1, 4 incoherent men whining and pleading with me to just drive them home. It’s only 10 minutes away. R included. Then L turns to the men and stumbles over his words as he says, “I’ve got it, guys, I’ll drive.” S tosses him the keys, and R opens the passenger seat door.

I stared at them incredulously, and probably because I too was not fully sober, and in a move I truly regret (and I mean seriously, I’m tearing up as I write this), grabbed the keys from L and climbed into the driver’s seat of S’s car. I’m holding back tears and panic because every fiber of my moral being knows this is absolutely the wrong thing to do. But if L drives, they're all dead.

I drive about 30mph on a California highway all the way home. Berates and jeers at my caution, filling the too-hot car. L starts a chant for me to “gun it,” and they all chime in. Lucky for me, it’s dark enough, and they're drunk enough, that they don’t see me crying. We get to their house safely with the girls’ car right ahead of us. They all want to keep the party going, but I fake a stomachache and run home.

I hear R coming in a few hours later. I hear him stumble over the coffee table in our cramped living room. I pretend to be asleep as he climbs into bed next to me without bothering to take off his clothes. I cry again because I don’t know who he is or what we’ve gotten ourselves into, but I know that it only gets worse from here.

to be continued…

yes, there’s more. so much more.

how not to make friends as an adult is a multi-post serial about navigating new friendships as an adult, and what happens when a mix of misaligned, insecure, 20 & 30 somethings (who happen to all be couples) form a friend group.

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.