Making Friends as an Adult, Part 1

Meeting Strangers on Vacation

“What’s the first thing you notice when you meet new people?” I asked Ben.

“How hot they are,” he replied, smirking.

“Okay, fair,” I said, laughing.

It was a joke, but the question stuck with me. Because lately, I’ve been thinking less about first impressions—and more about what happens after that. What makes us actually connect? What makes someone go from stranger to friend?

Over the past month, I’ve been revisiting an old topic: friendship and what makes it tick. In the past, I’ve written about what makes a good friend, the different types of friendships, and how we decide who to reach out to when we want to hang out (remember the Venn diagram?). But recently, a slightly different question has been on my mind:

How do we make friends in the first place? Or more specifically, how do you decide who is going to be your friend?

This all started percolating after the unforgettable Caribbean sailing trip with 11 other people—9 of whom I didn’t know at all.

One friend joked, “Wait, were you on a reality show?” I laughed, but agreed the situation did have reality show vibes: only Jeremy and Ari knew everybody, and the rest of us were a mix of mutual acquaintances and total strangers. And yet, there we were—preparing to live together on a boat for a week, with limited privacy and no real escape plan (unless you were ready to swim for it). I don’t know how, but somehow, we all had a great time with zero drama.

“My favorite part of the trip,” Maggie said on one of the last nights, “was getting to know everybody. We’re such a diverse group of people and I honestly didn’t expect that we would all get along so well.”

Same.

I didn’t even know there’d be 12 of us on the boat until a few days before we set sail. I also didn’t know what the sleeping arrangements were, or who I would be sharing my living quarters with. But I wasn’t too concerned with the logistics—I trusted Jeremy and Ari to handle the details. My concern was more personal: who was going to be my buddy? And more importantly, who was I going to ask to rub sunblock on my back?

Even as a self-proclaimed introvert, I love getting to know different people—and it was refreshing to meet folks outside the Silicon Valley bubble. Matt’s originally from New York, used to work in compliance, and now runs his own small business. Ari and Amy work at the UN. Sara’s a doctor on a fellowship in DC. Eric and Jeremy met rock climbing in San Francisco. Everyone brought a different flavor to the mix, and by the end of the week I felt comfortable enough asking someone—anyone—to put sunblock on my back (a true sign of trust and friendship, if you ask me).

The trip made me realize how quickly connections can form when the right conditions are met: shared experience, time together, and a willingness to be real.

Sure, being stuck on a yacht in the Caribbean fast-tracks the bonding process. But I’ve found the potential for connection exists in more ordinary places, too. Sometimes, it looks more like an afternoon at the beach—sandy, spontaneous, and sun-soaked.

One of my 2025 goals is to spend more time in the (other) South Bay—specifically Hermosa Beach—because it’s one of my favorite vacation spots. I was visiting last month when I decided to drop by the 3rd Street net where I knew a casual group usually plays 4s on Sundays. I had met some of them during a trip in October, and the organizer gave me a nod, like he kinda-sorta remembered me.

Between games, I chatted with some folks who seemed friendly, and that’s when I met (another) Matt. We did the usual small talk, and he mentioned he lived in Redondo but was looking to move to Hermosa.

Then came the question: “Hey would you mind spraying some sunblock on my back?” he asked. “It’s the only thing I don’t like about coming here.”

I obliged, of course. Then paused awkwardly, “Did you need me to rub it in….?”

“Nah, I got it,” he said with a wave.

I chuckled internally. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who found back-sunscreening to be an oddly intimate, mildly vulnerable act. That moment stuck with me—not because of the sunblock—but because it reminded me how alike we all are. Different backgrounds, different cities, different stories. But in the end we’re all looking for the same thing: people we can feel comfortable with. Or put another way: we’re all just looking for friends.

In my “Let’s meet up” blog posts, I wrote about the value of follow-through and how each person brings something unique to a friendship. I wonder, though, if I skipped a step—because follow-through assumes there’s already some intention. Some spark of, “Hey, I want to know you.” And that, I think, is where adult friendships begin.

Whether you’re stuck on a boat with strangers or showing up solo to a volleyball court, the common thread is presence. Not just physical presence, but emotional presence: a willingness to engage, ask questions, laugh, listen, say yes, and risk being a little awkward.

You can’t always predict who will become a friend—but you can create the conditions for it. And maybe…bring sunblock.

Because you never know who’ll need it—or who’ll say yes.