No New Friends

As an adult, I struggled with the idea of making new friends. While I would try to form relationships at my jobs, I resisted when people I wasn’t that close to approached me and suggested we spend more time together outside regular work hours. The whole two times it happened.

I met this friend at my last job. I was hired full-time while she worked hourly, finishing off school, showing up later in the afternoon a few days a week or on weekends. We didn’t sit close to each other initially, so I knew nothing about her besides the fact that she was pretty, unapproachable, and quiet. We rarely talked.

As the weeks wore on and my probation period ended, we started messaging on Slack, but only to ask work-related questions. Typically, we were apologizing for making the other finish an open ticket from an especially annoying customer that we couldn’t wrap up ourselves. Once, I heard her make a joke under her breath. Later, one of my bosses, whom I disapproved of, was openly talking to a group of us about how funny and sarcastic this part-time person was. How unexpected it was for her, because this girl was so quiet. Because of how much I disliked this boss, I made a mental note to avoid her. If our boss thought she was funny, she wasn’t funny and we would never get along. 

Then, another one of our supervisors moved us to the same island of tables. Suddenly, we were seated side by side. Our schedules still didn’t align completely but I started looking forward to the hours when she arrived. Some days, I would check the app that showed our schedules to see when she was next due in the office. When I knew she wasn’t working, I had nothing to look forward to, my posture making myself sink lower in my seat. On days when she was there, regardless of who I was talking to or messaging, I’d stop what I was doing and smile in her direction, greeting her as she walked in. Like a human golden retriever, wagging its tail when its owner came back from being away for too long. 

She is so funny. I have never met anyone with the same sense of humour as her. It’s not weird or cryptic, you just have to be quick and paying attention to get it because it’ll whip past you or go over your head. She still makes jokes that I don’t understand until later or that she has to remind me she’s made. I laugh so hard when she makes the same joke again, insisting that I laugh because I missed it the first time.

I used to think: was she good enough for me? Was I good enough for her? Would we be good for each other? Then at one point when we were sitting next to each other, she started quietly singing, “Stacy’s Mom.” I couldn’t help myself and chimed into her singing with my own backing vocals. I whispered “after schoooo-oo-ool” in her direction. It still makes me choke when I hear that song. These important moments accelerated and intensified what I was already feeling. When new friendships are born, how do you know if they will last? The dumb memories we created every time we were together are what kept me invested in knowing what would come next for us. 

I had no idea what she was like at home. I knew she lived with her boyfriend in a condo and that she walked to work most days. She spoke Spanish to her parents and sometimes used it to listen to conversations other Spanish-speaking employees had because they didn’t know this about her. She loves to read. Our interest in books is one of the first qualities we discovered that we shared and it bonded us. Did she want to borrow this book that I just bought? This new phase of our relationship represented a sense of trust and friendship because we knew that we would be sticking around to keep exchanging our copies and discussing them. I never felt attached to my books before but started to gently inquire about whether she would want to read something I was thinking of purchasing. We joked that we now consider the other before buying books online. Would she like this one too? If yes, then that book doubled in value.

As our friendship progressed, I learned details about her that wouldn’t have come up had I not pressed her repeatedly. How did she know Photoshop? What did she take in school? How does she learn Garageband and Adobe? Does she think these apps are easy to use because she’s younger than me? Or just more open-minded? I found out that in school she lived in a house close to my parents’ place. What were her other friends like? Why does she know so much about skincare? Why does she like Glossier? Is it because she’s already hot and real makeup would appear too thick and obvious on her face? What was her experience being an only child?

I underestimated our closeness. I was open to meeting new friends, especially at work where bonding over mutual hatred of the same people and processes was encouraged. But I struggled to imagine making friends from this job. I truly hated being yelled at by strangers on the phone. I mean duh. I didn’t want reminders of this pain and stress in the form of people I bonded with. I also struggled with the fact that she was 23 and already smarter, more life experienced, and unquestionably funnier than I was. Although our humours complimented each other perfectly, the constant comparison to her dry, deadpan wit and beautiful 23-year-old skin bothered me. Why couldn’t I live with my casual jealousy of her AND be her friend? 

She and another colleague from work, who is also smarter and younger than I was, insisted I get a drink with them or go to a yoga class after our shift. I declined. I reasoned that I already had friends from high school, university and my other jobs and that I couldn’t afford time for these newer, better versions of my past self. Although, this is arrogant on my part. I wish my past selves were as great as they are. 

At one point, we discovered an artist we both liked was coming out with a new album and would be playing a show. She asked if I wanted to buy tickets with her. My initial answer was noncommittal and I changed the subject. She asked a week later when tickets were still not selling out. The concert was six months away. Would we both be working at this job? Would we still know each other and want to go to a concert together in six months? We were and we did. The concert was thrilling and full of fond memories and I have since gone to two more concerts with this friend, cementing our love for each other and our shared music tastes. For me, the comfort of dancing in front of and with your friends at a concert is a space that is so sacred and pure that to be let into that space and to let someone else in was a monumental step in our friendship. 

The beginnings of these relationships are always magical in that you aren’t immediately aware of all the moments that bring you closer together. But some stick out more prominently than others. Slowly, we started saving each other seats next to each other on the picnic benches during all staff meetings. These were rare opportunities where we got to catch up after our boss realized we were talking too much instead of working and separated our desks. Once, during one of these all staffs, she leaned her head gently on my shoulder and left it there in her tiredness. I froze. Had we achieved this level of intimacy yet? Did we unlock a new tier to our friendship? I felt so close to her and made extra room on our bench so she could adjust to a more comfortable position. 

We started taking our lunches at the same time. Our conversations over Slack changed from being work related to making jokes at the expense of our colleagues and customers. I stopped turning down her invitations to hang out outside our job. I asked her for her phone number because I didn’t want to stick to one form of communication. She, like me, was noncommittal and didn’t answer right away, but now we text each other regularly. 

I wanted to hear from her when we were both chilling at home. I wondered about her opinion on decisions I was making in my life. Should I apply to this job? Should I accept this offer? Would this jumpsuit look good on me? She had quickly caught up on my entire history and could help me make informed decisions that would improve my life. I felt like an expert on her life too. It was as though we were old friends catching up from years of not being present for each other. It became essential to fill in all our knowledge gaps. 

I started repeating stories to her, which she would insist frankly that she had already heard before. Her insults became more biting and specific. A true sign of a strong and lasting friendship. Rather than earning each other’s trust, it was as though it had been there since the first time we eye rolled at each other. She’s the friend whose non-verbal communication style I learned quickest. I saw what she was thinking from across the room of any bar we were at. When she was promoted, and I was on 8 a.m. shifts every day, she would text me from her walk to work asking if I wanted a latte. For months, she’d quietly drop a latte at my desk while I was on the phone. When we could, we’d pick up lunch for each other and share coupon codes to the spots around our neighbourhood. They were mainly her codes. Anytime we saw a two for one deal, we’d be there, cashing in together. 

I don’t know who said I love you first. But I do know that we started mentioning it so casually when leaving each other that I didn’t even notice the first few times. After these times, I’d think about us saying it and it was so obvious to me that we had loved each other for ages. And it wasn’t because we saw each other every day but because every day we stopped whatever we were doing at work to do something to make the other person’s life easier. We’d sit at the communal picnic tables and bully whoever joined us that day. We’d joke with each other until we were doubled over our desks, crying and shaking with laughter at how far we had taken a passing comment the other made. She made a truly unbearable job one of the ones I’m most grateful for. I always recognize this lovely gift that being hired at the same time gave us. 

It should be easy to write about the friends you love most. But to encapsulate this friend and how much I love her in words feels a little fruitless. It’s funny now thinking back at all the good she’s brought me and how easily I was initially willing to overlook our obvious bond. Recently, our other friend shared some memories’ from her phone’s photo album from a year ago when we all went to a concert together. A concert that my friend got us tickets to because she outsmarted the Spotify algorithm. It’s a sophisticated algorithm. At one point during the concert, the artist started playing a song we shared at the beginning of our friendship. She rested her head on my shoulder and I leaned in closer.