I remember sitting in my school grounds on a rainy February day in 2009.
I was on a bench not far from the science block and getting saturated by the rain. I’d been excluded from my friendship group over some silly squabble and I felt completely, utterly alone.
I still feel that way today – but unlike back then, I’m happy about it.
Throughout my life, I’ve had people in my life that I would consider ‘friends’, but I would never describe the connection I’ve had with them as concrete, solid or strong. I would go so far as to say I have never had any close friends.
I’d class a close friend as somebody who you might see or speak to all of the time. Somebody who knows everything about you, somebody you can trust with almost everything and anything, and somebody who doesn’t judge you.
While I have that sort of relationship with a few people I’ve met online, I don’t with anyone in real life.
I can see why some might find that idea sad, but to me it is all I’ve ever known and I’m no longer upset at the idea.
But back in the playground, it felt awful. Even today, family members tell me how much of a ‘Larry loner’ I was. I’d sit outside in the rain and eat my lunch while texting my mum. I hated school, and I hated break times because it cemented the fact that I was lonely, with no real friends to call my own.
There were people I would hang out with, on and off (although definitely off more than on) – but I don’t keep in contact with any of them; even back then, we rarely hung out outside of school.
I’ve never had the classic friendship circle that it feels like most women my age have, or have had – you know, the girl’s group chats where nights out are planned, and conversations about relationships, love and sex are had.
I won’t lie, it’s been hard not having had any of that – I felt excluded throughout my teenage years, and even more so when I was nearing 20, starting university and hearing stories of what everybody had done, got up to, experienced, yet I hadn’t done any of that.
But luckily, now I’m 24 and having spent the most part of my life without many pals, loneliness or FOMO doesn’t affect me at all. I’m not impacted by any pressure to live up to being a social butterfly – meeting up with different people each evening, sipping on cocktails, talking about love lives and sharing problems.
I admit that my expectation of what female friendships are like is probably a bit too reliant on stereotypes, rather than the reality, but this is probably because I’ve never experienced them firsthand.
I like to think that if I’d had a large friendship group from a young age, I don’t think I’d be who I am today. In fact, I know I wouldn’t.
I’d have spent my entire life trying to fit in – I’d have probably had sex by now just to feel ‘normal’, I’d have most likely set foot in a club, I might have enjoyed drinking alcohol more, or have been to a festival.
Sure, having a big group of friends might have meant that I wouldn’t have suffered with mental health problems as much, or social anxiety, because maybe I’d have felt more included – or maybe I’d have been slimmer because I’d have wanted to conform a bit more.
But having this typical close-knit girl group wouldn’t have been worth changing myself for, and I’m content with the way it has turned out.
Yet I do think that not having a group of mates to grow up with has stunted my development into womanhood. While people my age are at bars making memories with their friends, I’m at home with my cat watching TV. When people my age are going to the cinema with their boyfriends, I’m at home scrapbooking or writing letters to my pen pal.
In some senses, I’m still that girl eating her sandwiches by herself, texting her mum and feeling lost and alone. But, today, I’m 24 years old with a – dare I say – successful career in journalism and writing, a solid history of higher education, and a select few nice people that I mainly keep in touch with via WhatsApp and social media.
I might still be a ‘loner’ in some people’s eyes – after all, I probably am a little – but I’ve made peace with that.
I’m glad everything has worked out the way it has because it’s made me strong, independent and I don’t rely on anybody else for my own happiness.
I don’t have to fit my life around the lives of others. I admit that I probably sound selfish, and, yeah, perhaps I am. After all, I’ve never had to consider the feelings or schedules of others because nobody has ever done that for me.
Not having many friends, especially in your mid-twenties, isn’t embarrassing or weird. It’s… liberating, freeing and fabulous.
As you grow older, learn and discover more about yourself, you might just realise that even the hardest, loneliest journey was needed in order to get you to where you are today.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing angela.pearson@metro.co.uk.
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