Growing up I remember often thinking that life would be easier when I got older. And I guess some things are. On a lot of levels, I’m more confident. I don’t have to worry about pimples. My parents can’t tell me what to do. I have my own money that I can spend as I see fit. etc. etc. etc.

But what I didn’t count on is that some things get much harder. Like making friends, for example. How exactly does a woman of thirty meet new people? And how does she get to know them to the point of finding out if they have anything in common?

So many things have changed in the past couple of years. Two of my closest friends moved away. Far away. Two others got married. These were the people I hung out with. We were a perfect little circle. To make matters worse, I’m on the other side of a divorce now. And the few new people I meet are either married or in a relationship so that pretty much excludes me. It’s just weird to have the odd singleton in the mix.

But the fact of the matter is, I need to do something about this. Everything I do these days completely revolves around work. The only people I talk to outside of my family are clients and people who come into the store. Well, except for my best girlfriend, M. She’s amazing and the best friend I could hope for. But she lives in a grown up world where I feel like I don’t fit anymore. She has a real family of her own. Husband. Two kids. Cat.

So I realize that I need to fix this. And I want to fix it. I just don’t know how. I’ve considered taking a class at the local university but I’m afraid I’ll stick out as the old person in the class and not meet a soul. I really don’t like going out to clubs and besides, you can’t really meet anybody in a place like that.

Plus, I want to meet a man. A good man. Once upon a time I knew this guy who was attracted to smart girls. He would IM me from work and ask me what I was working on and the more studious it was, the better. And he was crazy for it. Now there were lots of things about him that made that particular guy not good for me. But I really want to believe that there’s a similar one out there who might not need a Barbie doll to be happy. And who I might possibly be able to hold an intelligent conversation with. And maybe, just maybe, he would have a job. But I’m not going to meet him sitting at my computer 18 hours a day.

So I must figure out how to make this happen or I will be destined, as Bridget would say, to die old and alone and eventually be eaten by wild dogs.