How to Make Friends When Nobody Wants to Party

There are times of life when it is easy to make friends, and there are times when it is more difficult. Early parenthood seems to be one of the latter.

When I became a mother, my social life came to a sudden and intimidating halt. Meeting people wasn’t the problem—I had the park and church and library storytime for that—but deepening friendships seemed to take forever, just years upon years. There’s only so much friendship-making you can do while both the adults in question are sleep deprived and the conversation is frequently interrupted by toddlers. Comfortable and quotidian but also intimate friendship was no simple thing to develop. And as far as I can tell, I was not alone in this difficulty.

Fifteen years later, I now have several wonderful friends. But it wasn’t easy to get there, and it’s only gotten worse nationally in recent years. Most of us are aware of the Surgeon General’s warning about loneliness, as well as the mess of isolation and fear that came out of the COVID pandemic era. It’s not a great situation for building community. We don’t shake hands as much as we used to. We’re socially nervous. And when we try to cultivate friendship by hosting parties, setting up playgroups, or meeting for dinner or coffee, we often find ourselves frustrated by cancellations—or we cancel the plans ourselves.

Now, some people still do have success in setting up parties and double dinner dates and other gatherings—I was recently floored to see a D.C. commentator declare on X that he attends a dinner party an average of three times per month! But I suspect that this has something to do with differences between urban and rural (or suburban) life, and perhaps also with some people having a talent for setting up parties that really work. But what about those of us who can’t seem to do so and find ourselves frequently either socially disappointed or socially disappointing?

Instead of trying to create our personal idealized social community, perhaps we ought instead to take a look at our social lives from a more open-minded point of view. If people are telling us through their lack of commitment that they don’t want to come to parties and don’t want to be our dinner dates, but we still need friends, what are we overlooking? Instead of bemoaning specific social problems (e.g. “I have wonderful friends, but we can never get together because we’re all working constantly to stay afloat in this economy!”), can we look to see what resources we already have, and perhaps that we are not even really seeing?

Let’s examine some practical possibilities. To begin with, although the struggle is real, we might reconsider our ratio of complaint-to-appreciation. For example, while I can’t see my closest local friends as often as we would like, when I had a serious health scare earlier this year, they were bulwarks of support for me in prayer, especially. In fact, once when I reached out to a friend during that time, I discovered that she had actually just finished praying a novena for guess who? Suddenly the fact that I missed her—that we hadn’t been able to see each other all that often in recent weeks—didn’t seem very important. Resting for a moment now and then in the ways our friends love us can make all the difference in perspective.

Second, we might try investing more in the small but significant interventions we can make in the lives of our acquaintances and that they can make in ours. I may not have the energy to make big meals for other families right now, for example, but I find that organizing a meal schedule for someone in need is quite doable for me and often makes a big difference for them. Or sometimes someone needs some minor help in an area in which I have experience or expertise, help that really matters to them. It is worth asking oneself, What can I do to help others that is simple for me, but not for them? Instead of always trying to do big things, can I find new contentment in realizing that these little things matter?

Similarly, if old-fashioned paths like dinner parties or new-fangled ones like school co-ops aren’t working for making new friends, we might try looking for unexpected friendships within our existing circles. Who delights or interests us who is outside of our normal range of close friendship? In the past several months, for example, a friend whom I’ve always valued but whose life has been somewhat different than mine has become my weekly walking partner, and through this we have discovered that we are truly kindred spirits in many deeply meaningful ways. I also recently invited an eight-year-old I know a little bit out for a milkshake simply because she cracks me up whenever I encounter her. Why not make friends with her, when I like her so much, even though she is too little to talk with me about grown-up things? And I had the most wonderful time taking my friend’s sixteen-year-old to her first orchestra concert a few weeks ago. We had so much fun, and I’m so honored to be part of her growing up. Why not?

Similarly, it can be worth reaching out to make online connections and remote-work professional relationships into real friendships as well, even though they initially may seem limited by lack of proximity. Two of my closest friends today are fellow writers and homeschooling mothers whom I met online, for example; but we only became real friends through email and messaging and actually authentically getting to know each other, eventually prioritizing meeting up in person whenever possible, as well. One friendship actually began when I cold emailed the author of an FPR essay just to let her know how much I enjoyed her piece; and the rest, as they say, is history.

I’ve also met real friends by attending conferences and saying yes to wild invitations like traveling to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago. Lest you think this is all dreamy and romantic, keep in mind that, perhaps just like you, I am broke and tired and very, very busy. Jetting off to a conference—much less a week-and-a-half in Spain—seemed extremely far from possible to me until my wise and confident spouse practically pushed me into it. I thought I should “build community” by trying yet again to run another playgroup or host another big party or offer to watch other people’s kids; but those things didn’t work very well. Instead, life invited me to far-flung places and new professional roles. I’m very glad I finally started to listen.

In short, whatever our particular lives look like, it may be wise to start looking for opportunities for friendship on the path that is already rising before us, rather than trying to create some sort of social ideal that just isn’t working. We do need to stretch ourselves in order to build and maintain friendships, but are we stretching ourselves toward something we simply wish were true or toward accepting the gifts that are actually already at hand, even when we struggle to see them?

2026 is likely, I think, to include its fair share of social disappointments and cancellations. But instead of banging our heads against the wall, maybe those of us who value friendship can start to think a bit more creatively. Who knows—maybe there’s an eight-year-old somewhere in your life, too, who would pair very well with conversation and a milkshake.

Image Credit: Pierre Bonnard, “En bateau (On a Boat)” (between 1910 and 1913) via Wikimedia.