Friends at Fifty+

What follows isn’t written from a place of self-pity. It’s not a transparent cry for sympathy—or for someone to say, “I’ll be your friend.”

With that out of the way, it feels somewhat embarrassing to admit (let alone think) that I’m struggling with something that feels like rejection. Well, maybe not a full-scale rejection. More like a lukewarm reception.

And maybe this is part of the deal with friends at fifty-plus.

You see, there’s a person who I’d like to be closer with, but it doesn’t feel like the interest is all that reciprocal. We’re friendly enough, but I want a deeper connection than he seems to. Check-in texts go unacknowledged. Calls don’t get picked up. Missed calls usually don’t get returned. When we hang out in a group setting, everything is cool—but the arm’s-length treatment outside of group dynamics makes me wonder if the in-person warmth is mostly politeness.

Of course, as is often the case, my thoughts turn inward. What’s wrong with me? Why isn’t this person interested in becoming a closer friend? I’ve evolved over the years, so I’ve moved away from blame. I don’t need to run this person into a ditch for not wanting a deeper friendship. Maybe we’re just friendly, but I’m not one of his boys.

Now, I understand that you’re not going to develop meaningful friendships—the kind that extend beyond surface banter at social gatherings or the occasional like on social media—with everyone you encounter. The rub for me is that I find it frustrating and deflating when you meet someone interesting, seem to have a lot in common with them, and make an effort to connect—yet, as the expression goes, he’s just not that into you.

Ugh.

I’ve grown comfortable enough in my own skin to share this angst. In this case, I’m talking about my desire for a closer friendship with a guy. I’m sure I’m not the only man who has struggled with wanting to develop meaningful friendships with other men—particularly as we get older.

I once heard a radio host make the analogy of friendship in your 50s and beyond to a parking garage. The “friend garage” has a limited number of spaces, and in order for a new friend to come in, an existing friend has to exit.

I can’t say I fully agree with that perspective. I have some really great friends. And I’m sure all of us have at least a few friends who probably need to exit the garage. That aside, I know my friend “garage” isn’t full, and there’s unquestionably capacity for another close friend.

In fairness, maybe his “garage” is full, and he doesn’t have the capacity for any more close friendships.

Another thing I’ve been thinking about—more specifically tied to the idea of Friends at Fifty+—is whether developing new, meaningful friendships at this age is harder than we admit. I know it’s possible, but how often does it happen? I refuse to believe that the friends we have at 50 can only be the people we’ve already known for years.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who feels like their life and perspective have shifted with age, and that the friends you had before that shift don’t always align with your inner world and outer world the way they once did. Of course, I have friends I’ve known for 30+ years who feel like family. That said, I’ve met some people in the past couple of years who I feel like I’ve known all my life.

I suspect we all have some kind of seniority system with friends. And while I wouldn’t call it a meritocracy, I do think about how much I have in common with the people I want to spend more time with—and where I want to invest my mental and emotional energy.

Sigh. I don’t really have a neat and tidy end to this post. I just wanted to get this “thing” out of my head. Maybe by sharing, someone will offer some wise—or even pithy—insight in the comments that helps me accept things as they are, or realign my emotions and expectations.

Maybe friends at fifty-plus isn’t about finding more people—it’s about finding the right ones, at the right pace.

Peace ✌🏽