DO YOU NEED MORE FRIENDS? How to expand your friendship circle

When Martha Hayes moved to LA, she left behind pals and was forced to do something out of her comfort zone: make new ones

‘Wait, are we really doing this?’ asks Zac as his wife, Aubrey, and I type our numbers into each other’s phones, having emerged from the hot tub in a haze of Whispering Angel. My husband, Chris, nods; he’s up for it, too. It’s a balmy Sunday afternoon on the hip Eastside of Los Angeles, and while this might sound like the beginning of a terrible soft-porn film, we’re embarking on something that feels, in our late 30s, even more out of the ordinary: the start of a new friendship.

Since moving to LA three months ago, I have added 15 people to my phone contacts. Seven of them I have now met more than once; two of them I am yet to meet. And then there are the people I’m chatting to on friendship ‘dating’ apps and the acquaintances sliding into my DMS on social media. My schedule is so packed with drinks, coffees and beach dates that sometimes I get people’s names muddled up. But would I call any of them friends? I’m not sure, yet.

I’ll let you into a secret: I am not usually this proactive or, well, popular. I am sociable and enjoy meeting new people, but I find networking a chore. I have a handful of close friends from secondary school and university and although I’ve made lots of ‘connections’ while living in London for the past 10 years, I could probably count the number of genuine mates on one hand. The cool girls I went indie dancing and drinking with in my 20s are not the friends I rely on a decade later. Real friends – the ones you call for a chat when you’re upset – are a lot harder to come by, so I feel lucky to have the few that I do.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious when Chris was offered a new job in California. Deep down, I knew the obvious benefits – year-round sunshine, swimming every day, green juices – outweighed the drawbacks, but it felt frustrating to leave behind friendships I had spent years cultivating. We had just bought a house around the corner from my best friend, who was expecting a baby. I was also trying to get pregnant and had a picture in my head of how the next few years would play out. It involved pushing Bugaboos around overpriced cafes in north London, not living an 11-hour flight away in a city where I knew no one.

The first few weeks in LA are overwhelming and, inevitably, lonely. As a freelance writer, not going into an office every day feels a bit hopeless. I have ‘Carrie Bradshaw in Paris’ moments, where I stare longingly at girlfriends gossiping over avocado toast. The time difference does not help. I throw myself into Whatsapp chats with friends back home, but my stomach sinks at 3pm (11pm UK time) when they go to bed.

Taking the advice of Kate Leaver, who published her self-help book, The Friendship Cure, last year, I decide there’s only one thing for it: project Make New Friends. ‘Be opportunistic and proactive about

approaching people,’ Leaver tells me. ‘If you feel like you have chemistry with someone, follow through on it and make them an offer of friendship. Making new friends takes courage, so push through your fear of being rejected and your complacency.’

My first port of call is to utilise every one of my contacts. That girl from LA I met randomly at an event seven years ago? I email her and we meet for lunch. The friend of a friend of a friend who now lives in LA? I get his number, and we meet for coffee. My new rule of thumb is saying ‘yes’ to everything in a way I never would have before. It’s how I end up at the Malibu beach house of a well-known supermodel – what was once strictly a work event is now a bona fide opportunity to find a new BFF; sadly, on this occasion, I leave empty-handed. And it’s how I find the courage to attend a sycophantic expat brunch where everyone I meet tells me they work ‘in film’ when, I suspect, it’s highly probable they do not.

I have also been embracing friendship dating apps and lost count of the number of hours I’ve spent swiping. I’m constantly being told by Bumble BFF that I’ve ‘gone through all the bees in the area’. Maybe I’m fussier than I thought. But if being fussy is skipping anyone who says they’re ‘looking for their gal tribe’ or uses the word ‘adulting’, then so be it.

Making friends later in life feels more challenging than when you’re younger: I feel vulnerable in a way I wasn’t expecting. Choosing an outfit and heading out to meet a stranger you’ve exchanged only a couple of messages with is a far cry from your mum taking you to a friend’s house for a playdate aged six; it’s more akin to a ‘romantic’ first date, with all the butterflies. There are times in every person’s life when we make new mates because we’re thrown into a situation, such as going to university or joining a baby group. But being new to an area is more lonely and easier to overthink: ‘What kind of person am I?’ ‘Why would anyone want to be friends with me?’ ‘Try not to be wounded if someone doesn’t want to be your friend,’ says Leaver. ‘It’s not necessarily a slight on you as a person. People are busy, people have met their social quota, people are lazy. There are plenty of reasons why someone might not respond to you or follow through on a friendship with you.’

But there are upsides to trying to make new friends. When I first arrived in LA, I was fixated on age like it was somehow important in a friendship. I remember hitting it off with a woman at a work event and arranging to go for drinks; my heart sank when I realised she was 13 years younger than me. But I’m so glad I went. We have the same cynical sense of humour (a rare find in LA!) and she’s coming round for dinner next week (also rare; people don’t make plans in advance here). Most people in this cut-throat city are next-level networkers, which couldn’t be further from how I’ve always thought of myself. But it’s the kick up the arse I need. Yes, it can be annoying (example: I tell someone I’m a journalist; they tell me they know someone, who knows someone, who knows someone, who works at blah, blah and they must connect me ASAP), but far from being the ball of insecurity I was three months ago, I’m more confident and resilient. ‘Don’t be alarmed if you still feel lonely once you’ve started hanging out with new friends,’ says Leaver. ‘Making proper connections with other human beings is the most important way we can protect ourselves from loneliness, but we cannot be utterly immune to it.’ It’s an important reminder and I feel fortunate that this process has left me more content in my own company because that can only be a good thing for future friendships. Don’t get me wrong, I miss my friends back home but I definitely don’t miss Doodle polls and trying to get a date in the diary.

We’ve yet to meet up with Zac and Aubrey, but what’s the rush? Yesterday I bumped into a woman on the bus – twice in the same day! We took it as a sign to swap numbers; it turns out we live in the same building. Spontaneous, opportunistic, direct – I’m more LA than I first thought.