A Social Butterfly & Mom of 3 on Making Friends in Your 30s
I’ve always been a social butterfly. For context: I’m an eldest daughter and a Gemini. Plus, it’s just always been who I am at my core. In elementary school, I hosted pool parties with all my BFFs. In middle school, sleepovers at my house were the place to be. In high school, I threw parties that people still talk about to this day. But never have I ever attempted the daunting “making friends in your 30s” challenge. I couldn’t have anticipated how hard it would be.
A little bit about me: loquacious, convivial, loves a cocktail or an iced coffee, down to go thrifting or discuss a currently read or watched book/show, loves to grab (an early) dinner, gregarious, mostly extroverted.
Making friends in your 30s means . . .
Getting deliberate about connection—trading bar-hopping spontaneity for intentionality: joining a class that actually interests you, volunteering for causes you care about, or showing up regularly at neighbourhood spots where conversations can deepen. You’ll find that honesty about your limited time and clear boundaries helps filter for people who respect your life rhythm, and that pursuing shared activities often yields stronger bonds than trying to force small talk. Accept that some friendships will be seasonal—intense and short-lived—while others grow slowly but stick, and treat both as valuable. Above all, be patient with yourself and others: vulnerability is still the bridge to closeness, even if it takes longer to build.
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The catch? Trying to do all of that as a busy mom. I don’t have the time! And even when I was going to a yoga studio a few times a week, no one spoke there. (I miss Hot 8 Yoga in Hollywood where the crowd was younger, friendlier, more my style.)
To have found myself as a 34-year-old mother of three with no one to hang out with has been a shock to my sociable system.
Let me explain. I’ve been moving around—mainly by choice—to different cities since I was 21. I left my hometown and moved to Sydney, then to Toronto, then to Los Angeles, and now I’m in the Bay Area. I have friends all over the world. Just not where I currently am.
Making friends as a pregnant mom in your thirties is hard enough, but try adding a move to a new city where you don’t know anyone. It’s next level. Between being home with my kids, getting more pregnant by the day, and not having a village around to watch the kids while I head out to a yoga class or Bumble BFF meet-up or whatever, it’s nearly impossible to meet new people. Yes, my twins are in preschool, but none of the moms seem interested in making friends with one another there either.
Throughout the years, I’ve made many friends: surface-level friends, lifelong friends, friends who know things about me few people do, friends to go to the farmers market, book shop, thrift store with. Friends who have been there for me when I fell in and out of love, lost both my parents, birthed my twins.
The catch? They’re all in different cities. Or countries. Or continents.
Los Angeles became home for me at the beginning of 2023; my kids were a year old and I felt ready to make the city my own and build a life for us. And what a life we built. We had a good routine going and friends to hang out with—both for me and the boys. Sometimes I’d take them to the park on a play date, while other times I’d put them to bed and then head out for an espresso martini with a child-free girlfriend.
Life was blossoming. We were in full bloom. And then . . . we were plucked from that life and planted in a new city that we neverwanted to live in.
Of course, in some ways this new place and change of pace has been good for us, but in other ways it’s been harmful to my soul. I feel stuck, trapped, unfulfilled, sad. In a way, like I’m wilting.
It’s difficult to find the words to describe these feelings because, at times, I feel less like the fabulous woman I want to be and more like a . . . loser? Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. But you know what I mean. It’s lonely. Sometimes, even with the chaos of everyday life as a stay-at-home mom, I feel lonely. Alone. (Although, how alone can you truly be with two 4-year-olds clinging to your every move and a baby punching your organs?)
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I talk to my other friends all the time. We have group chats, send voice messages, hop on FaceTime, DM each other reels. Yet, I’m still here and they’re over there and there and there and it’s unfulfilling.
Is it greedy to want to see people in-person? To dress up and put in an effort and talk face-to-face? To try new restaurants together or get coffee at a local cafe? Is that a thing of the past? I mean, with the world so wide open and people able to travel and move around and leave their hometown and their childhood friends behind. Are virtual friendships the new norm? I hope not. I miss my friends in Victoria, Sydney, Toronto, Los Angeles so much.
No matter how close you are, there will always be a layer of distance that hardens over time when one person moves away. We become a compilation of crème brûlée companionships.
After a few months of attempting to settle into my new life, I tried to make friends. I downloaded the apps, I swiped, I matched, I sent messages. Most would-be “friendships” fizzled out before ever making plans to meet IRL. (It’s not all bleak: there’s one woman/mom I’ve met up with twice since September and she’s cool.)
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Perhaps it’s because I’m pregnant that this lack of friends is bothering me so much right now. When I was pregnant with my twins, we were in the middle of the pandemic and so I didn’t have a baby shower because of social distancing and extra precautions and all that. This time, I would have loved to celebrate my baby girl with my friends. However, logistically, it’s challenging. Where would I do it? Victoria, where my oldest friends and family live? Or Toronto where I have some of my best friends? Sydney is out of the question for distance and cost. Back to LA? But where would I host?
Call it a symptom of watching Sex and the City and Desperate Housewiveswhen I was in my formative teen years, but I’ve always longed to have a group of friends like that. A few close friends you can always count on for advice, a cocktail, a sassy story or two. People to get glam with or stay in with sweats on, drinking margaritas on the porch. People to confide in, to count on. To do life with.
Unfortunately, the older I get, the more mythical those kinds of friendships seem. At least, for me.
No one talks about how difficult it is to create a group of friends like that when you move to a new place. Unless most people from the “group” are also new to the city, born and raised people who haven’t left their hometowns will usually already have the backbones of their social life solidified. Perhaps there’s room for a new person to enter the circle. Perhaps not.
To a degree, I feel like I had those kinds of friendships—in Victoria, in Toronto, in Sydney. And I was building that in LA. But I left all of those places. And it feels exhausting at this point in my life to have to start from scratch. Again. Even if it is as a result of the choices I’ve made that have lead me to this point.
Also, unlike Desperate Housewives, no one on my new suburban street has struck up a conversation with me beyond hello from across the street, invited us over for a dinner party, or brought over a basket of muffins a la Bree van de Kamp. (Not that I’m expecting that to happen. Besides, I rarely see my neighbours in the first place. Do they even exist?!) There’s no Susan, Lynette, or Gabby here either. Not even an Edie. Not even a nosey Mrs. Huber!
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We were invited to one neighbourhood party last summer but our neighbours must have decided they didn’t like us because they didn’t invite us to the next gathering. (Do you know how awkward it is to walk by a backyard party you weren’t invited to and have your kids stop and excitedly yell, “Mommy! Can we go there? It looks fun!” No, baby. We weren’t invited. Eek.)
I know that one secret to a happier life is to focus on what you have instead of what you don’t; think about what makes you happy and not what makes you miserable. My kids are happy and healthy, I’m growing a healthy baby girl, we have a backyard and fresh air and a house with enough space. However, I can’t help but wonder . . .
Maybe my thirty-something mom friend group is just around the corner. Maybe I’ll make some new friends after I give birth to my daughter and my sons start elementary school. Maybe focusing on just being home with my kids is what I’m meant to be doing right now.
Maybe?
—ᴍᴍᴍ