The joys of a new grown-up friend

I’m at a book launch party in a museum of death, surrounded by wine, trendy guests and unspeakable things in test tubes. I spot a woman across the room and catch her eye several times. I know her name is Amy, I know what her cat looks like and I know her opinions on Brexit. I know her from Twitter. We’ve liked a few of each other’s tweets and had a little banter back and forth, but we’ve never met in person. I like this woman, not least because she is currently wrapped in a glorious floral dress and looks entirely delightful.

A wine or so in, we gravitate towards each other and chat. She is now, more than a year later, a close friend. We WhatsApp during the week and debrief on life over almond croissants and blueberry-pistachio buns when we can. We swap gossip, share ideas, celebrate achievements and check on each other’s mental health. Had we been any shyer or more awkward that night at the death museum party, we might not be friends at all. And that’s just it: sometimes there’s one tipsy conversation between you and a genuine connection with another human being.

Amy is that uniquely lovely thing: The New Grown-Up Friend. She is that exciting, heart-warming new addition to a circle of friends I’d started to suspect might have finished expanding. She is the late-twenties surprise, the plot twist, the bonus buddy. She is someone I’ve chosen to bring into my life as a fully-fledged adult, someone I’ve used my fully developed frontal lobe to select as a buddy. Where other friends of mine reflect my school, home, work or university years and a lot of our love is fuelled by nostalgia, this is someone who does not know all my stories because she simply wasn’t there to live them with me.

Read more at Vogue.