It was a Friday night and I was determined. I’d gotten a haircut
else was having a good time. Everyone else, it appeared to me,
that week, put on a nice shirt, and was ready to embrace my
knew exactly how to embrace this ambiguous identity as a
status as an independent and free-spirited young adult. I was
social, fun young adult.
going out for a drink—alone. Except lil’ ole me. Just trying to make it on my own in a new How hard could it be? I’m prepping myself as I get ready. Tons
place and desperate for community. My only local friends were
of twenty-somethings go out alone to make friends. I’m good
a select few acquaintances that I’d see at best once a month for
at small talk. I’m a freaking hoot. I can totally find someone
coffee. After graduating, I had very quickly gone from living
to chat with for an evening, maybe even crack a few jokes with
and working with my closest friends to suddenly being 300
the bartender—and maybe, if I’m feeling really confident, I’ll
miles away from my community.
make sultry eye contact with someone across the bar like they do in the movies. Besides, I’d spent a solid fifteen minutes Googling “how to go out alone and not feel awkward” earlier that day. I’d put in the work. I knew what I was doing. I was ready. I’m a fun young adult, dang it.
“There is a world-shaking change that occurs in the sudden transition from student to
“I had spent so long defining my identity and dictating my life by my friendships, that I was scared to find out what would happen when I was alone.” This isn’t some sob story—this is simply the reality that almost every post-college young adult is faced with as they enter the workforce. Loneliness.
professional. It’s coming up on 8:30 pm so I decide to leave. That seems like a good time to go out, right? Or is it too late? Maybe too early? Whatever. I’m going. I head over and finally stroll up to a favorite local hang out—trying to look pleasantly approachable and feeling confident that my outfit communicated “fun young professional that casually makes friends at local digs.” I step inside and it’s crowded as heck, too loud to hear myself think, and everybody knows each other. I try to find a place to sit, or stand even, and everywhere I turn there is one laughing friend group after another. Everyone else has friends. Everyone
College provides a bubble of community that is completely unlike any other phase of life. There’s no other point in your life when you are surrounded by people that are, in many ways, just like you—and there is a world-shaking change that occurs in the sudden transition from student to professional. You are suddenly forced out of your built-in, easily accessible, and frequently taken-for-granted community. For the first several months of life on my own, loneliness was the enemy. I had a steady income, a reliable living situation, and a college degree. But being lonely, I was sure, would stop
23 ——
