how to not make friends as an adult (pt. 5)

murder in the friendgroup

It’s now April 2023; there are 12 of us in total - thanks to an offshoot Bumble BFF adventure of R & L’s, which brought us J and the arrival of E’s quasi-cousin and his partner (P & W).

And for those truly counting here - L had introduced everyone to his cousin, M.

Hangouts were becoming increasingly secular, as fitting 12 people into a bar or restaurant was nearly impossible in downtown San Diego. E and L had the largest space, which was the only truly feasible accommodation for us all, so most weekends were spent drinking on their patio while the boys played darts or got into other shenanigans they felt inclined to keep their partners out of.

R and I were bored. To put it mildly. Months spent indoors with baby Juniper trying and testing us, the inclusion of so many new faces we had no chance to really meet properly. I mostly sent R off when invitations came around, knowing they meant more to him than they did to me. I was already starting to crumble: puppyhood, bad job, disingenuous faces on repeat in my life… I was slowly collapsing in on myself, without yet realizing just how far inward I was headed. So R got to be free, and I got to quietly resent him for it.

R has always loved murder mysteries. Books, movies, plays, games, etc. The intrigue, the puzzle, the life-or-death of it all. He eats that shit up. We had discussed it in smaller factions of the group- his idea to throw a murder mystery party for us all. And with Juniper finally free to roam safely in the outside world, we were ready to be sprung and make our grand reentrance back into the evolved cohort of our so-called friends.

The easy road and the high road had never met within this posse, so I fruitlessly tempered expectations and curbed R’s enthusiastic spending as he poured himself into getting everything just so.

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The theme was the 1920s; characters were assigned two weeks in advance; complicated backstories were received and rehearsed; outfits were planned and practiced. I puppeteered and campaigned in the background all the while so as to instill in everyone just how much of R was going into this event. R had a vision, and nothing short of that would do.

We arrived 2 hours early at E and L’s place, kicking them out for the afternoon to maintain some mystique, as we made generous use of their square footage.

We hung lights, replaced picture frames, prepped snacks and period-accurate cocktails, hid secrets, and practiced each actor's entrance to ensure proper greetings befitting of the complicated tale.

I didn’t know the story; I just knew I was Ms. Vixen — the wannabe lover of J’s character, whom I had never actually met. I was a thief and a flirt, an obvious suspect to some and a distraction for others. An entirely out-of-body role for someone who hasn’t played pretend since she was 5 years old, but for R, I found it somewhere within to lean in. I certainly wouldn’t be the reason the night failed.

Nerves were high; I didn’t know if anyone had read their backstories or was even coming to play at all. I’d never seen it from anyone, and as the minutes ticked down to our guests' arrival, I shook with anticipation of what we were about to receive.

To everyone’s credit, though certainly not my own. The group showed up and showed out.

C arrived in a fur coat, bright red lipstick, and pearls befitting of her character’s riches.

S, a doctor, had a suit and tie covered by a white coat and stethoscope

J, the object of my interest for the night, arrived in a full suit.

E, who was the head of a mob family, came in suspenders and a bolo hat.

L, a professor, had on a cap, a tweed jacket, and a pipe. He even donned his best attempt at an English accent for the first hour.

T, an actress, had the dress, a feather in her hair, and was bedecked in silver jewels.

M - L’s cousin whom I had also never met - cast as the alcoholic writer trope, arrived with no shoes, no shirt, and never put down his flask.

R, the detective, a fully participating character and sometimes the host — complete with suspenders, badge, and orange water gun.

Also featured: a pilot, a rich widower, a director, and E & L’s pup Cinnamon.

And I was floored. Head over heels for R, who was beaming at them all and adopting a curious old-time accent of his own at their arrival. Introductions were made in character; everyone was snubbing who they were supposed to be and mingling wanly with their assigned familiars. A few giggles escaped here and there as we all eased into the discomfort of adopting new personalities for the evening,

the suspects

The story unfolded; only R knew the outcome. He’d occasionally pull people aside for instructions or subtly pass notes inviting them to meet him in various rooms of the house to receive instruction.

And in between we drank, we ate, we cast suspicions and doubts. We asked questions to learn more about who might already know who for nefarious reasons.

The doctor owed the mobster money and was dealing pills to the professor.

The businessman is married to the wealthy lady in fur, but having an affair with me while meanwhile his wife has an affair with the doctor.

The actress had been seeing the doctor for an “illness”.

The mobster hated me, the doctor wanted me, I wanted the businessman’s money.

And the drunk was secretly writing an exposé about us all.

As the night unfolded, we realized the depths of deception and lies at play. Then slyly, I received a note to walk into the bedroom and scream.

The businessman was lying face down on the ground. Dead.

Per instruction, I let out a bloodcurdling scream that I think actually rattled a few people who dropped their caricatures and ran over. Laughing in relief when they saw my yell was just part of the plot.

We carried him (literally) into the living room and inspected him for clues. Finding a note in his pocket threatening him in typographical, incognito-style writing.

His wife started to wail over him, which appalled the doctor. Until she herself collapsed from suspected poisoning.

I was accused of being the perpetrator, having found the businessman dead and, of course, wanting his wife out of the way. And to be fair, I wasn’t really sure whether I had done it, but I maintained my innocence to the very end.

The end being my own mysterious death, and in my pocket? Evidence incriminating the pilot, who had been rather shady and unattached throughout the evening.

Now, this is a buyable game on Kickstarter, which I’ve certainly spoiled quite a bit of. And with that, I’ll leave you guessing as to who the murderer actually was!

Of all the gatherings held, this is unequivocally the highlight. It certainly gave us hope and felt like a bonding force amongst us where guards were dropped, and everyone trusted the process to bring us together.

Yes, we drank. Yes, we ended the evening somewhat uncomfortably returning to reality. Yes, R had plenty to say about how it all went. But regardless, we maintain that this is the pinnacle — as it was all downhill from here.

More to come…

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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.

Fringe Friends:

• P - E’s second cousin

• W - P’s gf

• M - L’s cousin from LA

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anyway, here it is…

-June

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