A field guide to spotting, capturing, and keeping that elusive adult friendship

W

hen I was first married, I lived in a basement apartment while I finished college. My time was equally split between endless commutes to school on the longest (and possibly filthiest) train in all of New York City and building a happy, healthy home where I didn’t burn the green beans every week. When someone invited me to N’shei events, I politely declined. “I don’t need new friends,” I told my husband. My high school and seminary friends were prone to appearing at my door at any time of day, I had at least one sister who had basically moved in, and I had no time for anyone new.

Over the years, though, those visits from friends became few and far between. Some of them got married and moved away, while others just didn’t reach out. And perish the thought that I did the reaching out! I used to joke that I was an extrovert saddled with hobbies that required intense solitude, and when it was a choice between writing or making a phone call, writing always won. (During sheva brachos, on at least one occasion, I told my husband that I needed a room, alone, to get some writing done. Incredibly, we’re still married today.)

I probably drifted away from 80 percent of my good friends, although I still speak to five or six of them regularly. But in at least two cases, I’m cheating: One married my brother, and one goes to my shul. I’ve made a lot of friends in my neighborhood by now, 15 years later, but there was a really nice long stretch when I had no new friends and was losing the old ones.

And that’s totally on me.

I’m a bad friend. I know this. I work too many hours, and when I’m writing a book or an article, I tend to phase out everything else. So messages go unanswered, lest I begin a conversation that I can’t finish, and I don’t have time for the brunches and mother-and-daughter playdates of yesteryear. My closest friends now are people who are equally busy, who don’t expect quick responses or languid outings together. We’re great at making time for each other, but it isn’t often, because we’d start making excuses if we overstretched ourselves. But at the same time, in a crisis, I know that we can count on each other.

I’m a great friend in a crisis, to be fair. Need someone to watch your kids for a week after a family emergency? Give me a call. Ongoing family drama? I’ll sit on the phone with you every single day. Lonely hospital stay? I’ll block off my calendar for the day.

Want a companion to go gown shopping with you? I’m so sorry, I’m overloaded at work this week!

And it makes me wonder, really — how does it all work? What is that magic formula to making friends? And, when I’m being brutally honest about my own limitations… why do my friends stay, and how do I keep them around?

I decided to dig deep. Predictably, I then pushed off said dig for another eight months.

(“Bashie has some feature on the list called… adult friendship,” more than one editor said dubiously at a grid meeting. “What is that?”

“No idea yet,” I answered cheerfully. “I’m going to figure it out, though. Maybe this summer?”)

But here we are. Who’s with me?