I’m middle-aged and don’t like socialising – how do I make new friends?

How do you make friends as an adult when your idea of a truly great time is staying in, by yourself, eating snacks and watching trash TV? Asking for a friend. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m asking for myself! I don’t have enough friends to be asking on behalf of. That’s the whole problem.

It was all so easy when we were children, wasn’t it? You would march up to another small person and ask them, “do you want to be my friend?” And that was it. Maybe they did or maybe they didn’t, it didn’t really matter because another best friend was sure to turn up by lunchtime. I remember being six-years-old and genuinely worrying about who was my “real best friend” and who were just very good friends, I had so many of them.



I had back-up best friends. But oh, how the times have changed. You can’t ask another adult to be your BFF just because you both happen to be in the same line at Lidl without things getting awkward pretty quickly.

Trust me, I’ve tried. if(window.adverts) { window.

adverts.addToArray({"pos": "inread-hb-ros-inews"}); }Socialising becomes decidedly more delicate as we age. Such negotiations require small talk and interacting with people you don’t know to see if you have anything in common, both of which I now find quite difficult.

Don’t get me wrong. I have friends, great friends, but I don’t have new friends. I have established friendships, most of whom were recruited when I was still a student and a precious few have been my friends since we were at school.

I have some very good friends I met through work, but almost unanimously, they are all old friends who have been well worn in. I know their rhythms and they know mine. But life is nothing if not changeable and for a variety of reasons (new babies, ageing parents, relocations), sometimes older friends are not as available as they once were.

The availability, or unavailability, of friends is particularly noticeable to committed singletons like me. If you’re partnered up, the chances are that your other half is meeting most of your companionship needs, but I would advise you to be very careful with that. You might not have even noticed that your mates are all busy until the divorce comes through, and you suddenly realise that you have no one left to play with.

I’ve seen that happen more than once. But a single person will likely be keenly aware of the state of their various friendships because they are extremely important to them. For one reason or another, you may find yourself in the position of wanting (or needing) to make new friends, which brings me back to my original question: how do you make new friends when you’re middle-aged and really don’t like socialising? Because that’s where I am.

Left to my own devices, I would happily spend most of time on my own, doing jigsaws, watching TV, and dipping things in guacamole. I have a very limited social battery which quickly wears out, even when I’m spending time with people I actually like. I need time on my own in order to recharge and recover from the stresses of being so damn charming around other people.

This, for some, is the very definition of an “introvert.” if(window.adverts) { window.

adverts.addToArray({"pos": "mpu_mobile_l1"}); }if(window.adverts) { window.

adverts.addToArray({"pos": "mpu_tablet_l1"}); }It was actually notable psychiatrist Carl Jung who first introduced the concept of introverted and extraverted personality types in 1909. He defined the introvert thusly: “For him self-communings are a pleasure.

His own world is a safe harbour, a carefully tended and walled-in garden, closed to the public and hidden from prying eyes. His own company is the best. He feels at home in his world, where the only changes are made by himself.

” The validity of introversion and extroversion as distinct personality types has been challenged by more modern research, which argues that we all exist on a spectrum rather than in one camp the other. Having said that, there is no doubting that I prefer a “carefully tended and walled in garden,” as long as there are snacks. #color-context-related-article-3603279 {--inews-color-primary: #3759B7;--inews-color-secondary: #EFF2FA;--inews-color-tertiary: #3759B7;} Read Next square KATE LISTER I tried Mel Robbins' self-help mantra for a week - now I'm angrier than everRead MoreThis would be fine, were it not for the fact that healthy, ongoing friendships are actually essential not only for maintaining good mental health, but physical health as well.

The research shows that a good friendship group reduces the risk of anxiety, depression, heart attacks, and strokes. What’s more, people with “poor quality” or no friends are twice as likely to die prematurely than those with “high quality” friendship groups. Sometimes I worry that, 30 years from now, all my old friends will have moved on, and I will be found dead and alone, buried under a mountain of jigsaw pieces and Curly Wurly wrappers because no one thought to check in on me.

I think socialising skills are like a muscle; you need to keep using it or it will start to atrophy. Making friends when you are a child is easy because you do it every day and are surrounded by other children doing the same. Plus, you’re doing it all for the first time and that makes it fun.

It’s exciting to talk to other people about your favourite film and their favourite colour. It’s the same when you’re a teenager and then a young adult, but eventually, you start to tire of it. You’ve had all those conversations a million times and you start to find them rather tedious.

It’s as if we have an optimum friend-making window in our 20s and 30s, but as soon as middle age hits, that’s it, we are no longer recruiting. All the friendship positions have been filled, thank you very much. But, I don’t want my socialising muscle to wither and die.

I don’t want to be found weeks after my death with the TV still blaring, so there is only one thing for it: I will have to get out of my comfort zone and start to work that muscle again. I am told that joining various groups is a very good way to do this, running clubs, book groups, Satanic covens, and so forth. I’ll be honest, none of these appeal.

I have searched high and low for a group that meets at my flat to watch true crime documentaries in silence, but to no avail. This is an introvert’s nightmare! There is a group close to me that meets once a week to learn how to knit. I might give that a try.

If I don’t get a new friend out of it, I might at least get a new scarf. Wish me luck. Results to follow.

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