Lying in bed last night, thinking of my peculiar circumstances over here – that is, I’m Scott Nomates – I thought back to one of Seinfeld’s closing monologues, to an early episode, ‘The Boyfriend’.
“When you’re in your thirties it’s very hard to make a new friend. Whatever the group is that you’ve got now, that’s who you’re going with. You’re not interviewing, you’re not looking at any new people, you’re not interested in seeing any applications. They don’t know the places. They don’t know the food. They don’t know the activities. If I meet a guy in a club on the gym or someplace, I’m sure you’re a very nice person, you seem to have a lot of potential, but we’re just not hiring right now. Of course when you’re a kid, you can be friends with anybody. Remember when you were a little kid, what were the qualifications? If someone’s in front of my house NOW, that’s my friend, they’re my friend. That’s it. Are you a grown up.? No. Great! Come on in. Jump up and down on my bed. And if you have anything in common at all, You like Cherry Soda? I like Cherry Soda! We’ll be best friends!”
Even though I’m in in thirties, because I find myself displaced – relocated to a foreign city for a short period of time – I’m making friends like I was a kid.
You’re an Aussie, I’m an Aussie! – they’re my friend.
You like beer, I like beer! – another friend
We like footy AND you like beer?? We’re BEST FRIENDS.
It’s amazing how much more open you are to making new friends when your social life consists of doing everything alone. Wake up alone, live alone, eat alone, commute alone. Don’t get me wrong, my colleagues here have been fantastic – very kind and very welcoming but see, they’re in their thirties. I don’t know the places, I don’t know the food , they’re just not interested in seeing any new applications. When the working day is over, they’re going home to their family and their (full roster of) friends.
I have made, I think, 2 possibly 3, proper friends here. People that I reckon I could call if I were in a jam.
The first I bonded with over football. We barrack for the same team at home, we speak fluent Navy Blue, and we enjoy a beer.
The second I bonded with over celebrities and television. We were similar ages, both Australian, love gossip mags, not into reality tv (for the sake of it, like Keeping up with the Kardashians, or The Hills – but if there is a competition involved, like American Idol, America’s Next Top Model, we agreed it’s not so bad), and watch the same tv shows – Rush, True Blood, Offspring.
The third is pretty much my China ‘best friend’. We both like footy, we both like beer and we are both here alone as our partners are back in Melbourne (he’s here much longer than me, though). Life can be lonely without your partner, so a midweek coffee or a beer watching the footy with someone who really *gets it* is very therapeutic.
My boss asked me this afternoon if I had plans on Friday night, as there was a work function he was happy to flick me an invitation to, to save me from a weekend of myself on high rotation. “I’ve got plans”, I told him. “Hmm?” he queried, eyebrows raised. “Off to the pub to watch the footy and have a few beers with my mates”, I told him with a wink. “Good for you”, he smiled.
Yes, indeed – they are good for me.
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