Closed to new friends? Couldn’t be me.
This weekend, I hosted six glorious humans at my parents’ home in West Mersea.
We lay in the garden, watched the sunset on the beach, shared stories and snacks - and it was perfect.
But, do you wanna know something wild?
Three weeks ago, I didn’t even know these people.
We met at a retreat in May - yes, the one I told you about in the last newsletter, and no I won’t stop banging on about it.
It wasn’t until I was mid-way through the weekend, watching the joy unfold between raw vulnerability and raucous lols, that I realised just how unique this was.
And it's got me thinking about something I've heard a lot in adulthood:
“I have enough friends already.”
Ummm, ok... but are you sure though?
More often than not, I hear this from people whose entire social circle is made up of school or uni mates - and that’s it.
They locked in their friendship group at age 22 and called it a day. Which is wild to me.
It's the idea that once you hit your mid-twenties, you have to put a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on your friendship door.
Who came up with that rule? Probably someone who peaked socially in Year 11 and thinks replying to a group chat once a month counts as maintaining a friendship.
I’ve made more new friends in the last 3 years than I did in the decade before.
Through my business, improv, queer community, football and honestly just vibing with people who weren’t afraid to DM me after an unhinged LinkedIn post.
And it’s been the most rewarding, soul-nourishing thing I’ve ever done.
This, perhaps controversially, brings me to the myth of the nuclear family - defined as two married, heterosexual parents raising biological children in a single household.
I’m reading a brilliant book right now called Radical Intimacy, which argues that the nuclear family is not the ancient norm we’ve been led to believe.
In fact, it’s a relatively recent invention, designed to suit industrial capitalism and keep us tidy, trackable, and easy to sell to.
You know what actually came first? Communal living. Shared caregiving. Interdependence. Living in circles, not boxes.
Not two adults and 2.4 kids silently eating an Asda stir fry in front of Britain's Got Talent.
And yet, somehow we’ve been sold the idea that it’s totally normal to only meaningfully see your friends every three months, usually between 7:30-10:30pm while you take it in turns to word vomit life updates.
This weekend reminded me of what we’re missing: the magic of hanging out.
Not catching up.
Not scheduling a catch-up.
Just existing around each other. Lounging. Laughing. Telling stories while someone’s chopping garlic in the background.
The kind of soft, unstructured intimacy that feels like being wrapped in a blanket made of serotonin and a perfectly brewed cup of tea.
With this in mind, a big priority for me this year is:
Say yes to connection.
That’s meant:
Visiting a friend in Sweden on a whim
Inviting six relative strangers to stay with me 3 weeks after meeting them
Saying yes to a silent play retreat in The Netherlands next month
Letting new people in. Even the weird bits. Especially the weird bits
The best decisions I’ve made lately haven’t come from vision boards or five-year plans. They’ve come from spontaneous texts that say, "Fancy hanging out?"
I think we’ve forgotten how to just be together. And honestly, reclaiming that? It’s radical. Especially for those of us building lives that don’t follow the traditional script.
You cannot reboot alone. Connection is the software update.
And on that note, I have question for you:
When was the last time you made a new friend, or let someone in a little closer?
And if it’s been a while… who could you reach out to this week, just to be around each other?
No special occasion. No big plan. Just a cosy seat, a warm beverage of your choosing, and a bit of time to sit side by side and remember what it feels like to belong.
If you’ve got thoughts on this, hit reply. I’d love to hear it, especially if you’re open to new mates too. I might not have a formal application process, but Margot (my very judgemental sighthound) reserves the right to sniff you out first.
With love, snacks, and lazy garden hangs,
Nat x
