Get Chalant

If you want to make new friends, I have one piece of advice.

The days of playing it cool are over.

It's time to get chalant.

We've all spent years pretending we aren't trying too hard.

Dating? Don't text back too fast.

Job interviews? Act like you have other offers.

Social media? Casually post the perfectly curated vacation photo as if someone just happened to catch you looking windswept on a cliff in Italy.

Unfortunately, moving has no patience for cool people.

The boxes are unpacked. The pictures are finally on the walls. I've figured out the fastest route to Walmart (the true sign you've become a local), and I've driven past the library and gym enough times that I can convincingly tell people I'm "meaning to check them out.”

Now comes the hard part.

Making friends.

Unless, of course, your long-term plan is to become emotionally dependent on the Costco receipt checker. That's a strategy too.

After moving so many times, I've learned something I wish weren't true.

Loneliness after a move usually isn't because there aren't wonderful people around you.

It's because everyone is waiting for someone else to make the first move.

Including you.

Every place we've lived, women eventually lean in and confess the same thing.

Usually in the school pickup line.

Or on the bleachers.

At the playground.

They lower their voice like they're admitting to tax fraud.

"I'm so lonely."

When we moved to Texas, the first few months were survival mode—schools, doctors, unpacking boxes, and approximately 4,700 trips to Home Depot where I confidently compared paint samples despite having absolutely no idea what “Swiss Coffee" was supposed to look like.

Friendship wasn't even on my radar.

Until suddenly...

It was.

My husband had coworkers.

My kids had classmates.

I had...the self-checkout lady at HEB.

She wasn't interested in friendship.

Mostly she just wanted me to put my avocados in the bagging area. Cold.

The loneliness built until one afternoon I found myself sobbing into my steering wheel in the YMCA parking lot. 

Somewhere between the ugly crying and arguing with the universe about the unfairness of the whole situation, I realized something.

I wasn't actually trying to make friends.

I was waiting for friends to happen to me.

Reader...No one was coming.

The funny thing about making friends is that everyone assumes they're the only one looking.

They're wrong.

Get chalant.

Apparently this is a word now. At least that's what my teenagers tell me, and while I don't trust them on fashion, I do trust them on internet slang.

It's the opposite of nonchalant.

Most of us approach friendship like we're trying to seem effortlessly desirable.

"If I happen to meet someone..."

"If they invite me..."

"If someone talks to me..."

No.

That strategy ends with wondering if your dental hygienist would list herself as your school’s emergency contact.

Chalant people wave first.

They introduce themselves first.

They ask to be included.

They ask for phone numbers.

They say yes.

They stop waiting for friendship to happen and start acting like someone who actually wants friends.

That's my mission in this new town.

I don't know a soul.

The clock is ticking.

And I refuse to end up back in another YMCA parking lot.

So here's the plan…

Go Outside

Fresh air is wonderful.

Sunshine is good for Vitamin D.

Whatever.

I'm here for the people.

Since I haven't yet developed the ability to see through walls, I've become an enthusiastic neighborhood wildlife observer.

Garage door open?

Potential friend.

Dragging the trash cans back from the curb?

Potential friend.

Kid shooting baskets?

Jackpot.

Children are basically friendship bait. You're not really after the children. You're after the grown-up attached to them.

I now pull into my driveway with the alertness of David Attenborough narrating a nature documentary.

"Ah yes...an adult neighbor has emerged carrying recycling. If we approach slowly, we may establish eye contact."

A few days ago, we noticed our next-door neighbors sitting outside.

Until then, I wasn't entirely convinced anyone actually lived there.

We tossed our groceries into the garage—including the ice cream, which died a noble death in service of making friends—and hurried over before they disappeared inside.

"But you're the newbies," you might say. "Shouldn't they introduce themselves to you?"

In an ideal world, absolutely.

In my fantasy neighborhood, every neighbor in a half mile radius knocks on my door during the first twenty-four hours carrying brownies, a casserole, and their phone number written on the back of a church bulletin.

But people are busy.

People are distracted.

People assume someone else will do it.

If you wait for the doorbell to ring, you may be waiting a very long time.

So be the one who rings theirs.

Ask to Be Invited

About five minutes into chatting with my neighbor, I cannonballed into the deep end.

"So...do you all have a neighborhood group chat? A Facebook group? Anything like that?"

"Oh yes!" she said. "Let me add you.”

I have never handed over my phone faster.

At that point I would've signed up for almost anything.

Within minutes I'd been added to the neighborhood text thread, the neighborhood book club, and a conversation about an upcoming neighborhood dinner.

This is how people get connected.

Not because they're magically discovered.

Because they ask.

Would someone have eventually added me?

Probably.

But "eventually" is how lonely people spend another six months waiting.

Adults are just waiting for someone else to go first.

Sometimes that someone has to be you.

Say Yes to Everything

Do I desperately need another book club?

No.

Am I joining this one?

You bet your big patootie I am. Because that's where the people are.

Dinner at a stranger's house with twelve other strangers?

Objectively awkward.

Will I be there?

Absolutely. I offered to bring dessert.

Gym class?

Going.

Will I enjoy it? 

Irrelevant.

Neighborhood Bunco?

Sure.

Do I know the rules?

Not remotely.

Church events, library programs, random conversations in the Starbucks line?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Is any of this comfortable?

No. No. No. 

Does it require a surprising amount of courage?

Absolutely.

But here's the truth:

Most adults aren't looking for reasons to reject you.

They're hoping someone else will go first.

Not every conversation becomes a friendship.

Not every person becomes your new best friend.

But every conversation gets you one step closer to finding your people.

So stop waiting.

Stop hoping someone magically discovers you.

Stop playing it cool.

Wave first.

Ask for the invite.

Say yes to the awkward dinner.

Because your social life is not going to accidentally happen.

This isn't the season to protect your calendar.

It's the season to meet people.

Become gloriously, enthusiastically, aggressively chalant.

Because somewhere in your neighborhood is another woman assuming she's the only one looking for a new friend.

It might as well be you.