Over the course of this month, I said goodbye to a dear friend, at a funeral in the UK, moved cross country, and started my new role in the first-class cabin at work. Talk about change.

It’s all been an adjustment—the time zone difference, living with roommates, working more at work, and remembering, over and over, my loss. But it’s been mostly good, and we’re taking the not-so-pleasant parts one day at a time.

This post is about the good stuff. A little check in on my big move to San Diego, one month in. I’m spilling the tea on my new digs, adjusting to living with roomies, and my hellbent mission to make friends. Honestly, there is nothing profound or juicy here. Just a life update for those of you who care, and a hype-girl style unpaid promotion for the North Park neighborhood.

Without further ado, let’s get into it.

Home & ‘Hood

I’m settling in nicely to the new house, adjusting to living with roommates, and have finally fully furnished my bedroom. My living space is starting to feel like home—peaceful and fitting to my personality. But the house is only a small portion of what makes up my new home.

There is no way to say it politely: This neighborhood kicks ass.

My street is quiet, with cute single-family homes and eclectic, well-manicured dessert gardens. Palm trees line the street and a car rolls by, at 25 mph, every five minutes or so. There are lemon trees and cacti thriving in front yards, a little free library two doors down, and the only foot traffic consists of runners or well-behaved dogs on leash. It is the kind of cushy middle-class street where a young family would want to settle; the kind that I could never afford on my own—not in California, anyway.

But though my street is quiet (and SO fucking cute) this is no Pleasantville.

Just three blocks away is the heart of North Park, where bars, restaurants, coffee shops, book shops, and vintage stores abound. Everything you need and things you didn’t know you wanted (like Purrgatory, a cat-themed gift shop) exist just a short walk away. There is even a Target. I could walk to a different restaurant every day of the week and still find something new at the end of the month. There are more than 20 coffee shops within one mile of my house. It’s the stuff of dreams, and that’s only in one direction. Two blocks from my door, in the opposite way, is Balboa Park, the 1,400-acre city park that houses museums, galleries, the San Diego Zoo, and running trails galore.

I decided to move here, having never spent time in North Park before, and I feel like I hit the absolute jackpot with this neighborhood. Smack dab in the middle of a bustling city square and expansive green space, I got the best of both worlds. There’s no shortage of things to do, and I’m enjoying getting to know the place, strolling down 30^th, popping in vintage shops, sipping coffee in various locations, and running the trails in Balboa.

The airport is a short 13-minute drive, and it will be 15-30 minutes to all the best beaches and hiking trails. Essentially, I’m in love with this location.

Getting to Work

Most of you know I’m a flight attendant and I work out of Boston. This didn’t change when I moved to San Diego. Now, instead of driving a couple hours to work, I take an airplane to get there. It sounds crazy if you’re not in the industry, but this is very standard for flight attendants and pilots.

So far, “commuting” to work has been easy breezy. I have the benefit of “Positive Space Commuting” right now, which means I get a guaranteed seat on the flights I take to and from work. This is a great benefit my airline is offering, but not everyone is eligible for it. Lucky for me, I had 100% attendance last quarter, and positive space commuting was my reward. Hopefully it stays that way, because flying standby to work can be a big source of stress, and one I’d rather not deal with.

This month I’ve worked four trips with San Diego layovers, meaning that I’ve been sleeping in my bed, going to run club, unpacking, and hitting coffee shops with potential friends, all while working. Who could ask for better than that?

It’s still early on, but so far so good in my new commuter life.

Non-Romantic Cohabitation

Living with roommates is an adjustment. For one thing, there is a not insignificant part of me that feels a bit embarrassed about having them. I’m in my late thirties, after all, and thought I’d seen my last roommate years ago.

But rent is high, and inflation is real, and I’m not willing to bust the budget to live here. Being a flight attendant makes the added expense of a one-bedroom apartment seem an exceptionally bad deal. I’m gone for half of the month, working. To work more to afford a more expensive place means…that’s right, more nights in hotels. More nights away from home. It’s a tricky equation of what’s most important to you, which thing you’ll sacrifice—a private space or fewer days having to work, sharing space, or a more grueling work schedule. There’s give and take, no perfect option when you’re a single person with a moderate salary.

When I decided I wanted to try living in this very expensive city, I knew roommates were the answer for how to make it work most efficiently. And so far, it’s working. I’m in the city I want to be in, in a neighborhood I’m obsessed with, and my rent is affordable.

Now that I’ve adjusted my expectations accordingly, given in to the idea of non-romantic co-habitation, I can see there are other benefits to having roommates, besides saving money. The two girls I’m living with are great so far, and they’ve lived here longer than I have. They can recommend fun places to go, good restaurants in the area, give me tips for avoiding the worst of the traffic. Invite me to parties with their friends, like they did last weekend. Maybe tag along with me on a walk or round of errands sometime. Even if we don’t become besties, even if we don’t end up hanging out much, I think having a couple people to know in a new place is a good start.

And speaking of getting to know people…

Making Friends

How does one make friends in a new city?

You make it your fucking job.

Anyone over the age of 25 knows that it is harder to make new friends as an adult. I’m luckier than most in that I’ve made amazing friends at work and continue to do so. As a flight attendant, every day at work is another opportunity to meet your new best friend. But when I go home? That is another story entirely.

Because my job is so socially stimulating—not just meeting awesome coworkers, but also interacting with hundreds of passengers—it is very easy to be a loner on your days off. To bask in the sweet silence of your space, your things just the way you left them. To live in sweats and skip makeup. To rest your vocal cords, feel the delicious, cavernous absence of Hellos and Goodbyes and You’re welcomes. Between errands and the gym, catching up on housework, on phone calls, and, yes, on sleep, unpacking your bags and packing them up again, you could spend all your days off not socializing a bit and still feel busy.

But I didn’t move to San Diego just to see palm trees on my way to the gym. I came here with the intention of making a life, and I’d like for that life to have other people in it.

I’m working at this making-friends business in the way people work at dating: Doggedly, and with the help of technology.

Tech, make me some friends!

I have joined several groups on meetup.com, which is a great resource if you actually want to get out and do stuff. For those who have never used the platform, these groups range from running clubs to pug clubs to Dungeons and Dragons to entrepreneurship meetups and every single thing in between. The groups hold events and it’s a good way to get out there and meet people who you have something in common with. It’s also a good way to test out new hobbies or activities you’d like to try.

Thus far, I’ve only attended two meetup events, with a running club, and it went really well. I ran a chill-paced three miles with a  group of women in my neighborhood, then we rucked up at a taco stand for tacos and conversation. A truly solid way to spend a Wednesday night, if you ask me.

The other platform I’ve been using is, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, Facebook.

I have spent more time on Facebook in the past three weeks than I have in the last three years combined. I found my place & roommates in a Facebook group a few months ago, furnished my new digs with the help of Facebook Marketplace, and now have joined several other Facebook groups for people in my area, both general and niche. Happily, it seems a lot of people out here are trying to make friends.

I’ve been DMing women who seem like potential friends, adding at the end of each message that  “I hope this doesn’t seem as creepy as Facebook makes me feel.” I’ve been making plans to meet up for coffee or go for a hike, some of which I’ve actually followed through on.

So far, I’ve been on three potential-friend first dates (PFFDs, can we do that?) that have felt successful. We sat for a couple hours, sipped lattes, learned about one another, and I got to try out some cool cafés in the endless and ever-growing list of must-do local spots.

Just like with any first date, I’m not putting all my eggs into one basket. That being said, we’re off to a good start and there is definitely some potential here. Beep, beep, on my way to a social life!

The goal is clear: Make 1-2 solid, real friends in my area. People you can hang out with when you’re having a bad day. Or celebrate with when you’re having a good day. And talk shit with, if and when I ever do start to actually date. People who you can be yourself around and don’t have to entertain. Someone with hype girl energy to trade back and forth. A beach buddy, a Bridgerton buddy. Someone with whom to exchange local, San Diego-based memes. Basically, I want a few solid threads in the web of what I hope will start to feel like community, like home.

I’m putting in the work, and with any luck I’ll have these positions filled by the end of summer. (Real friendships take time, don’t they?)

So, Are You Dating?

(LoL)

I told myself that I’d start dating in June. But June is almost here, and I’m backtracking like a politician facing their own unearthed Twitter feed.

The first part of this year was tragic and difficult, but having this move to San Diego on the horizon was a small light at the end of the tunnel—something I could look toward with a sense of hope and optimism. So much was lost, but not all. Fresh starts, new beginnings, all the things.

Maybe I’ll just go ahead and fall in love again, I found myself thinking. (Or at least get myself a half-sincere cuddle.)

But the readiness that seemed within reach, the timeline that seemed reasonable, look very different from where I’m standing now.

A month since the funeral, two months since his death. No time at all.

Grief still socks me in unexpected surges. Bewildered disbelief, thick, lodges in my throat. I swallow down the panic, my tears, feel the ache. Resign myself to the aftertaste, the chalky feel of dissonance. How could this have happened? It couldn’t. Yet it did.

It’s not always bubbling over. It’s not constant, thank god. But all the time, while I go about my days, I’m holding onto it, carrying it around. It’s too heavy right now to think of picking up another thing.

The thought of dealing with an unkind word, a thoughtless act, cool and cavalier at the hands of some stranger is more than my delicate sensibilities can bear.

I’d rather eat glass than listen to some dude tell me I’m “pretty great” then forget to call me back.

I just don’t have the bandwidth.

But the sad stuff is not the only reason, I’m also being practical.

I’m in a place I’ve always wanted to live, and I am dead set on making my life here as full and beautiful as possible. I’ve decided that I don’t want to start dating until after I’ve made some friends and feel like I ‘have a life’. I think dating is great and meeting people is great and sometimes it’s fine to do everything at the same time. But for me, at the moment, it feels smarter to take it one step at a time; Friends first, then romance.

I’ve been in enough relationships, situationships, and every manner of romantic connection to know that once you meet someone you like, you want to spend as much time with them as possible. It’s one thing to carve out time to still see your besties, but carving out your precious, limited time to meet up with potential, could-be friends? Doubtful.

You have your person, you have their friends. Who needs more?

For someone who is only home half the month, I can tell you it probably wouldn’t be me.

Then three, six, nine months later, we break up and I realize “Oh shit, I’ve lived here for nine months and never made any friends of my own.”

Back to square one.

I guess, basically, I’m trying to build the foundations of a nice life for myself before I consider inviting someone else into the intimate parts and locked-off rooms. I’m trying to do things right.

These could be famous last words, what the hell do I know? Life is funny and throws curveballs when you least expect them. But for now, I’ll just be walking on my way, pretending not to know that dating exists.

And I’ll be doing fine.