Whether you grew up near a farm or a couple blocks from Wall Street, you’re probably familiar with the concept of diversifying stocks. It’s a risk management strategy that protects you when there’s a drought, be it literal or figurative. “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” as they say.
In our society, we’re taught to diversify our lives from a young age: read so many books so you can talk about so many things, join so many clubs so you can meet so many people, make so many friends so you can. . . never be alone?
As I was chatting with my mom on the phone today about the one-millionth time I’ve been sans Friday evening plans, I started thinking about social diversification. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to diversify things like my resume, my palate, my linguistic skills, but I’ve never really invested much in expanding my portfolio of friends. Not that I don’t love my current friends – I do. But I rely on like three people for the entirety of my experience with the outside world. For the longest time I thought that was my preference – to keep my circle close and cherish the bond of a few. Maybe it’s that early twentysomething social butterfly tickling the tip of my nose, but I’ve been wondering lately if I am really getting the most bang for my buck.
Obviously, there’s a pandemic. So, things are weird for everyone right now, and it’s not exactly the best time to start meeting new people… or even to be with the old people, for that matter. But I do graduate college soon, and that means a whole lot of new is headed my way. It’s a new opportunity, really, to diversify my friendships. If I can have specially branded tampons meant for active days, why can’t I have a friend who’s willing to go run sprints with me up a hill or throw a football in the park? If I have about seven outfits that really only make sense if paired with a spicy margarita on a Friday night, why can’t I find Tex-Mex connoisseur who will always join in on my intense bi-monthly queso cravings? And don’t even get me started on all the special occasion shoes. . .
But there’s something about friendship that feels different from Playtex Sport tampons and neon tank tops. We’ve mastered how to diversify our incomes, our gardens, and our closets, but when it comes to friendships, are we really ready to trade in the high returns of a few long-term relationships for the reduced risk of never having to spend another Friday night alone?
