Disconnect

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Location: The Manitoba Legislature – Winnipeg, Manitoba

I cannot believe that I am about to say this, but we’ve lived in Winnipeg for a little bit more than two years now. And in that time, I’ve made very few meaningful new friendships. This is entirely unlike me, particularly since the advent of social media. There is virtually no city that I travel to where I can’t find someone to meet for wine and stimulating conversation, thanks to Instagram. And that’s why, despite all of the perils of social media, like a disconnect from real life and constant comparison (which, as we all know, is the thief of joy,) I would never dream of a long-term disconnect. Social media, and Instagram in particular, has allowed me to foster in-person connections that I would never have been able to make in another way. The gratitude I feel towards it for that reason is immense.

But in Winnipeg, there is a disconnect. I remember, as a young adult, reading newspaper articles about how newcomers to the city struggled to integrate and finds groups of friends. People seemed closed off, they said. They were content with the same friends they’d had since kindergarten and uninterested in making new ones. At the time, I shrugged it off. After all, just like all of those Winnipegers that the newcomers referred to, I had my group of friends, such as it was. We made room for new people, I told myself. But in retrospect I know that for the most part, that was totally untrue.

That group of friends drifted apart after high school, as most do. Most of us didn’t have much in common besides our neighbourhood. People moved to new cities, most notably me. You cannot put friendships on pause for ten years and expect them to pick up where you left off. I didn’t expect that, nor, frankly did I want it. I expected to meet new people when we came back here, because I’ve always been able to when we’ve lived elsewhere.

In order for someone to fit in, others need to make room for them. I have, at many times in my life, particularly as a young person, been guilty of failing to do that. So I don’t blame anyone for it. But that old newspaper article was right, it turns out. In Winnipeg, it’s rare that people are willing to make that room. I certainly don’t think the phenomenon in unique to this city, though. Or that it’s truly harder to meet people here than elsewhere. Every place is different. And the way to approach forging connections in it is different. In Vancouver, people tend to over-promise and under-deliver in new relationships, routinely suggesting future plans that they have no intention of following through on. I remember that well from my early years there.

The difference is that in Vancouver, I had social media on my side. I could connect with people who were like-minded and sincere about wanting to make new connections. And I didn’t need to go to an office every day, or join a club I had only a half-hearted interest in, or take yoga class in a sweaty studio where I felt judged because my workout clothes weren’t from Lululemon to do it. That isn’t reality in Winnipeg. I know because I went so far as to download the Bumble BFF app recently, just to test my theory. It turned up exactly one other woman seeking to make friendship connections in the city. I felt for her. But, as I expect many other prospective friends have done, I didn’t reach out.

It seems counterintuitive to say that I’ve struggled to make friends and then cite an example of an opportunity for connection that I’ve deliberately passed on. But the fact is, at this point in my life, I don’t need another friend I don’t have a ton in common with. Especially if they turn out to be a friend that I routinely make plans with that we subsequently reschedule four times, ultimately only seeing each other every six months or so. I have those people in my life. And I love them dearly, because of rather than in spite of their quirks. But I’m not looking for any more loose connections.

A friendship, like any relationship, especially a new one, is a huge investment – of emotional resources, of money and, most importantly, of time, which is non-renewable. I am as busy as everyone else. Which means I don’t want to join a club and spend ten Wednesday nights making pottery on the off chance someone else who shares most of my interests happens to have done the same thing. Social media allowed me to connect with people in a direct, efficient way. There was a time investment, but in most cases, it offered an almost guaranteed return. The problem is, it only works if other people use it for the same purpose. And here in Winnipeg, they don’t. So I feel a disconnect. A separation from people I might potentially meet and love, because I have to figure out where to meet them. My best strategy simply doesn’t work here.

It’s well-known that making friends gets harder as we age. We become more demanding, as I’ve very clearly illustrated with my six paragraphs of conditions about the kind of friendships I want to make (and how I want to make them.) And we are less likely to spend time investing in new friendships we know ultimately won’t serve us, thus decreasing the number of new ones that we start. What baffles me is why, if we know all of that, there are any cities left like Winnipeg, where people don’t use social media to do what it does best – make connections online that translate into relationships offline.

I can’t help asking myself – where is the disconnect?

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