A friend called me this morning, “Oh McKinnley, this guy just asked me out in the nicest, funniest, cutest, sweetest way, and I don’t know what to say. All I can think is, ‘I’m just going to ruin this too.’ “
And I understand. It’s difficult being in your mid 30’s, single, with a trail of broken relationships behind you, and a whole whack of messy dating piled on top. You begin to wonder what’s wrong with you. Actually, you began wondering that so long ago you now assume it’s an unsolvable mystery, just like you assume all romantic encounters are (eventually) going to end in heartache and ruin. So you make a vow to stop. Quit dating. At least for awhile. At least until you can pinpoint all your many character flaws and morph them into some new, shiny, perfectly dateable version of yourself.
We often forget, when hindsight is only showing us all the stupid, selfish, scandalous ways we acted in our last relationship, that it takes two to tango. Oh, and NOBODY IS PERFECT.
Do the work. Take time to be introspective, and get really really honest with yourself about your wants, needs, and actions (both past and present). Talk it out, hash it to death, write and write and write. Go to counseling. Read. And then, finally, start doing better. Recognize your triggers. Actively engage. Speak. For the love of all that’s good and holy, SPEAK!!! Speak your truth. Learn how to communicate.
If there is ONE thing you can do for yourself, it’s this: learn how to communicate. This entails learning how to actively listen, as well as learning how to effectively express yourself.
Then go. Do. Be out there in the big, scary, exciting world. Meet people, have conversations, make connections, explore those connections, appreciate the moments and the people for what they are, keep making connections, keep learning, keep exploring, keep growing, keep communicating.
And one day, suddenly, being with someone will just work. It will be easy and fun and great and exciting… But most of all, it will just work.
This doesn’t mean it will be perfect.
So you will have a conversation with yourself that will go a little something like this:
“Is this good enough? Am I good enough? Is the work going to be worth it? I’m pretty sure it’s much easier to be single.”
After some thought you’ll realize, “This IS good enough, in fact it’s not good enough it’s just plain good. And enough. As for me? I’m definitely good enough. The work, well it’s been easy so far, we just keep communicating, and I’m pretty sure we can figure anything and everything out. Sure, being single means I can do what I want when I want – and that’s pretty awesome… BUT, sometimes having a partner is actually much easier, they’re supporting and laughing and helping and picking up the pieces when I’m too tired – and that’s pretty awesome.”
Getting to know yourself, that takes time. Developing relationships, that takes time too. But having fulfilling friendships, productive encounters with coworkers, endearing moments with family, engaging conversations with strangers, and romantic relationships that truly lift you up and enhance your being and your life…? It’s soooooooooo worth it.
by McKinnleyI wish I could say that realizing such a grand lesson was immediately life changing. It wasn’t. Shortly thereafter I moved to Toronto, where I didn’t know a soul, and was presented with a whole host of opportunities to make friends. And I did make a few friends, but mostly I made acquaintances, a whole shwackload of them.
I lived and worked on Queen Street, so I walked up and down that street every single day. And I loved it. To me it was the heart of the city, a beautiful daily adventure, and everything I could possibly want. And because I spent so much time on Queen Street, it didn’t take long for myself and the other regular fixtures to start noticing each other. There was a guy at the Laundromat who told me which machines were the best, and who invited me to his friend’s place for Thanksgiving dinner one year (the most beautiful Thanksgiving I’d ever seen). There was the door man at the Bovine who would tell me all sorts of crazy stories when I stopped to chat with him on my way home. There were plenty of other faces that grew familiar, and who I’d swap a hello or a smile with.
There were my coworkers at HMV. There were all the same faces on the film sets I worked on, and who would often invite me into their Euchre games. There were the girls I did promotional work with. There was a rotating door of roommates, a handful of people my age at church (while I was attending), and the same 20-something, girl-next-doors who I’d share audition waiting rooms with. Just to be clear, I met a LOT of people in Toronto.
But knowing a lot of people and having a lot, or any, friends, are two entirely different things. Sure, I’d chat with my coworkers while on shift, then smile and wave at a bunch of Queen Streeters on my walk home, but once I was home I rarely went out again, I rarely received any phone calls, and I spent more time alone and lonely than even my Introverted self was comfortable with.
So why didn’t I take the friend-making lesson to heart? Why didn’t I reach out? I don’t know. I DID spend time with people that I enjoyed, but I also felt like most of the people I knew were exactly what they were: acquaintances. It was nice work with them, chat with them, and occasionally go to parties with them, but I didn’t feel like there was any connection, I didn’t think any of them would want to just come over and hang out with me, or meet up for coffee and a philosophical discussion about life.
How wrong I was.
To be fair, my time in Toronto wasn’t entirely devoid of close friends. When I first moved to the city I met this spunky blonde. She was in my circle of church acquaintances so we crossed paths here and there, but that was about it until one day she invited me to go see Blur with her at one of Toronto’s awesome little live music venues. I was baffled by her invitation because we didn’t seem to have a connection, but maybe all her friends were busy, or maybe she felt sorry for me? I dunno, but I went with her, we had a great time, and I’m sooooo glad she went out on a limb and took that first step towards making friends.
We clicked that night, we found common ground and made an incredible connection. It turned out that we were both new to the city, both actors working our way through the audition grind, and both living off savings and avoiding getting “real” jobs while we pursued our dream. Which meant that we spent an entire summer going to amazing live music gigs, seeing a lot of live comedy, dating the musicians we watched on stage, taking naps together, going on fast food dates (we’d share one combo, but each get our own dessert), occasionally working promotion jobs together and generally stomping up and down Queen West during long, warm, gorgeous, Toronto summer nights. That was a glorious time.
Maybe that’s why I forgot about my light-bulb moment, because I’d been lucky enough to be invited out instead of having to do the inviting, and then I had a friend – and one friend was clearly all I needed.
I was absolutely devastated when she moved away.
And by then, my acquaintances were so firmly in place as secondary players in my life that I had no idea how to invite them in and ask them to step up as friends. And so I was lonely, despite knowing the names and faces of dozens – possibly even hundreds – of Torontonians.
Four years later I decided that it was time for me to leave the city. As word got out that I was moving, suddenly I was inundated with a flood of people who were desperate to spend time together. I was blown away.
There were two reasons for this: The first is that Toronto can be true to its reputation of being business-like, cold and a little snobby. People are busy. And as such, you need to make plans, often weeks or months in advance. Want to grab a coffee with someone? Great! How does Thursday after next sound? Yikes. What I was reading as indifference was really just a bit of a cultural gap.
The second and much more compelling reason, was that somehow, unbeknownst to me, I’d made connections with way more people than I’d realized. Sure, it was just a spark in many cases, but there was enough between us that suddenly these acquaintances were desperate to see that spark fanned into a cozy fire before I traipsed off to the prairies.
I was so grateful for the attention as people flooded me with invitations to go out or meet for conversations or simply came by my house to spend time with me. But I was also sad, because had I known that people liked me and thought about me and genuinely wanted to get to know me better, maybe it would have changed how I interacted with them. Maybe I would have been more confident in calling them up and initiating the ability to further our connection, to check out whether that spark would lead to a lasting friendship. And I was sad that all these people were so “busy” that they didn’t take the time to seek out connections until the opportunity was almost lost to them.
And so, Lesson Number Two in How To Make Friends wasn’t too far flung from Lesson Number One, but obviously I’d failed to really learn that lesson the first time. Now I knew that not only did friend-making not magically happen by itself, but that I had to be willing to try and ignite even the smallest of sparks.
by McKinnleyWhen I was young I don’t remember thinking all that much about making friends, they were just kind of there. Kids in my class who I’d been in school with for years. Kids my age at church who I saw on Sundays, during week day activities, and later on at teen dances. There were two sisters my age who lived two houses down from me, practically my entire life. We met when I was 5, our mothers had been friends for ages, and in spite of lots of differences and ups and downs, we remained constant fixtures in each other’s lives for the next 13 years while we were neighbours, and I’m still friends with both those girls today. There were a handful of girls that lived within walking distance of me as a teenager and we did lots of stuff together, and which meant we pretty much had 5x the closet between all our shared clothes! As I made my way through high school I still had my childhood and church friends, but my circle expanded to teens in neighbouring towns, as well as the skater kids, musicians and serious, artsy teens in my high school, most of whom I met through drama and acting. (For the record, acting is something I NEVER thought I would be into, and I still don’t know what possessed me to join that first drama class in grade 10, but I truly believe it changed my life.) I was never the most popular kid, but I always had friends around.
Of course as I grew up and moved away from my childhood friends, as I entered the working world and different college programs, things changed. Sure, there were people around and I would connect with a few of them, but it wasn’t quite the same. But it wasn’t until I was finishing my second college program that the first “How To Make Friends” shoe dropped.
My classmates and I were sitting around, reflecting on our year spent together in the program. One girl began sharing about how, while she’d enjoyed her time, she’d often felt lonely, so far away from her friends and family. She didn’t feel really connected to anyone and had often sat in her rented room, alone, wishing somebody – anybody – would phone and invite her to go out or hang out or just say hi. I was a little bit blown away because I’d had more than a few of those moments myself, just wishing that somebody would make the effort to see me and talk to me and want to connect with me.
And I suddenly realized that instead of sitting around waiting for a call, I could be the one to make that call! I told you these revelations were simple, but how life-changing it can be to understand that in order to feel connected you have to reach out for those moments, that they don’t always just happen of their own volition.
I didn’t know that girl too well, nor did I feel any particular connection to her, but how different would both of our college experiences have been if I’d picked up the phone and said, “Hey, I’m kind of bored and wondered if maybe you were bored too? I thought we could maybe be bored together, or else go find something to do so we’re not bored. What do you think?” Whether or not we became life-long friends doesn’t really matter, it would have been the thought and the effort and the Doing Something that mattered. And who knows where that may have led.
So I guess the first lesson I learned about how to make friends, was to stop expecting that it would magically happen by itself.
by McKinnleyIn spite of how my last couple of posts may have come across, I’m not actually that bad at making friends.
That being said, I have a confession to make, albeit a fairly obvious one: I’m an Introvert.
Being an Introvert, I was a painfully shy kid, an awkward teen, and a somewhat confused and frustrated young adult. But by the time I turned 30 I finally felt not only comfortable but confident in my own skin, and what a relief that was! Oh sure, I still feel shy, awkward and frustrated a good chunk of the time, but I’ve learned how to either get past it, or just be ok with it.
As a side note, I want to mention the book “Quiet” by Susan Cain and add a lot of exclamation points behind it!!!! HolyCrapBlewMyMind. Of course I relate to it in a way that brings me to tears, but the truly eye-opening part was learning about the physiological differences between Introverts and Extroverts, and how each personality type functions best under vastly different circumstances. Certain people in my life make soooooooo much more sense now! I’d love to elaborate on some of these ideas later on, but right now, back to the point of this post:
Making Friends
I’ve never been one of those bubbly, charismatic people who effortlessly draw others to them, like cats to a can of tuna. I’m not a big fan of large groups of people, and small talk makes me anxious. I’d much rather have a great, intimate, open-hearted conversation with one interesting person than introduce myself to 20 people at a party, thank you very much. Not that I don’t like parties, or don’t go to them, sometimes they’re the best thing ever, but I generally leave exhausted rather than invigorated. I also come across as an enigma or a mystery, and can be a bit of an acquired taste, or so I’ve been told. *shrug*
And all of that is ok, but it also means I’ve spent a lot of time being lonely. Sure, as an Introvert I love and need my alone time, but I also deeply crave connection, and that’s something you need other people for.
I had a few lightbulb moments in my 20’s, when it came to interacting with people and being lonely, and thankfully I’ve learned some tried and true techniques to making friends. Techniques that are deceptively simple, but often overlooked. Techniques that even this hard core Introvert has been able to utilize to draw some really cool people into my life.
Part Two of an upcoming How To Make Friends series coming up next, so stay tuned!
by McKinnleyI wrote this during my second visit to Nepal. I’d finished with the volunteer house in Kathmandu, so I decided to venture out of the city, to the charming tourist town of Pokhara. There were mountains and a lake, and it kind of reminded me of Banff. I originally wanted to do some hiking, but I ended up not feeling so great – physically or mentally. Traveling alone can be both a blessing and a curse. Having the complete freedom to do what you want, when you want, without having to consult or consider someone else, is awesome. And I’ve often found that I actually meet more people when I’m alone. But it sucks when you see something really cool and wish there was someone around to share the moment, or when you just want a buddy to hang out with.
Does anybody around here play Cribbage? I’d love a game right now. A few days to myself, to relax, post photos, and do some writing sounded lovely, in theory… But being alone these days tends to be more lonely than lovely, and three days of free time can be tedious when you don’t know a soul, or the lay of the land, and when Internet connections are few and far between.
I do enjoy my own company, don’t get me wrong, but I’m still working on feeling relaxed and content when wildly out of my element. I’ve been repeating something of a mantra to myself lately, frequently, and it goes, “He always looked like he belonged exactly where he was.” I repeated it in my head this afternoon as I walked down the unfamiliar Lakeside drag in Pokhara. It never fails to calm my nerves, slow my heart, and raise my chin a little.
Interestingly, Mr. Nurse was surprised to learn that I’m 5’8″, he thought I was taller than his 5’10”. He commented that very confident people seem to come across as tall. Do I really seem that confident? I feel very small and awkward these days, so it was startling to hear his perspective. Maybe it explains his nervousness.. I’ll have to pick his brain about it later, but I always feel so self-indulgent asking people how they feel around me.
This afternoon an American girl asked me about my lip ring. Later on I saw her and her friend in a coffee shop, so I plucked up all my nerve and approached them. I had to give myself a serious pep talk before I walked over to their table, you’d think I was 15 and approaching a gorgeous older man…. But my pep talk went a little something like this, “McKinnley, get a grip. You’re alone, a traveler, they’re girls, and they’ve already talked to you, what on earth do you have to be uncomfortable about? Ok, put it this way, if one of them approached you and wanted to chat, how would you react?” I come across as oh so self-possessed, but in fact they had already talked to me, and I’d been guarded and obviously uncomfortable I’m my response. Sigh. I’d kicked myself at the time, and now I had a second chance that I was seriously considering brushing off. But realistically, I much prefer being approached to doing the approaching, as long as I don’t feel intimidated – let’s chalk it up to the shy, introverted, ugly duckling that inhabited my skin for so many years. (For the record, I certainly wasn’t approaching gorgeous, older men when I was 15. It’s hilarious to even try and imagine it…)
I got over myself and said hi to the girls, who immediately invited me to join them. See McKinnley, how hard was that? The best way to not be lonely, is to meet new people. Or call up old friends (but that’s not really an option for a few more days).
How to fill a day: Look at your options. Decide what you’d like to do. Take your time in fulfilling the desired tasks. Give in to whims and sudden desires. Savour as many moments as possible.
And so I’m sitting in a little open air restaurant, drinking a happy hour priced beer (650ml Everest lager, 199 rupees, which is about $2), and munching my way through a couple baskets of complimentary popcorn, while I alternately read and write. It’s delightful, truly. A belly fully of beer makes me feel tired, but when I check the time it’s only 6:30. It’s already dark out, and with limited power in Nepal it’s actually easy and rather satisfying to both go to bed and rise with the sun. But 6:30pm is a bit too early. I’ve been wandering the same street since about noon, so I’m about ready to return to my hotel room. The girls said there’s a popular bar to hang out and meet people, and it’s only a block from my hotel. Maybe I’ll head there..?
by McKinnley