How To Make Friends As An Adult

on being yourself, finding your people, and - shit, I think my prefrontal cortex just developed

Song of the week: Bedroom Between by Libby Akerman

June 2025, I’m flying back alone to London from Barcelona. It’s been a hot week as expected, and I hear it’s just as hot back home.

I have always hated flying when I was younger; everything from security to take off made me feel anxious and childish. The first time I went on a plane, I was maybe fourteen or fifteen. I think the longer you wait, the worse it is. It’s so strange and unnatural, I should have two feet on the floor at all times, not 42,000 feet in the air in a tin can.

Anyway, it’s ten years later and I’m flying alone. On the way out to Barcelona, I had actually quite enjoyed it. There was something peaceful about being in charge of it all and having to just do it scared. No friend with me to complain to about the cramped aisle or boyfriend to text ‘taking off now xx’ to, just me - utterly alone.

My flight on the way back was delayed, but it was fine. I felt like a seasoned traveller by that time, so I tried to act like it didn’t bother me. I texted my best friend to tell him I’d be home late. We had met a few years ago through a mutual friend and have been pretty much inseparable ever since, to the point now we live in the same tiny flat together. Then, like clockwork, my best friend rang to ask me if I wanted to go to the theatre with her in Chiswick. In true Gen Z style, we had met through TikTok. They call our gate number, so I hang up and go to board the plane.

“Hi, sorry, is this the line for London?” A woman behind me says, breaking me out of my thoughts.