The Midlife Friendship Club

Building your ride-or-die crew.

If you’d told 25-year-old me that I’d still be texting my life-long bestie in my mid 50s, I might’ve laughed. But here we are: decades, divorces, babies, heartbreaks, and high-stakes Amazon purchases later, and she’s still one of the first people I call when shit goes sideways or spectacular.

There’s something about reconnecting with old friends when life feels heavy. It always seems to happen in the moment you least want to reach out - when you’re maxed out, stressed, feeling like a shell of yourself - and then a text, a call, a simple “thinking of you” splits the dark. Sometimes they show up even when you’ve gone quiet. Sometimes you’re the one reaching across the silence. Either way, it proves friendship isn’t about perfect timing; it’s about being tethered to people who don’t need an explanation to love you.

Friendship in midlife hits different. Some friends are lifers: I’ve got one who’s known me since birth because our parents were friends. I’ve also got a small group from grade school who, through all the years and chaos, have managed to stay close and connected - decades of moves, marriages, divorces, kids, and career changes, and we still show up for each other. Then there are the wild cards - the ones who pop back into my life after years away, sliding in with the same energy and inside jokes like they never left. Others came through work, parenting, or those “Wanna grab a drink after this panel?” vibes. A few stuck. A few fizzled. And that’s OK. As we age, our circle shifts - and so do our standards.

Now, how long I’ve known someone isn’t the only thing - or even the most important thing. What matters more is how I feel when I’m with them. Do we laugh so hard we wheeze? Can we talk about our kids, our pelvic floors, and the existential ache of reinvention in the same conversation? Do they make me feel seen? Supported? Celebrated?

Those are my people.

Some friendships can go quiet for months - sometimes years - but the connection never fades. We pick up mid-sentence, mid-story, mid-life like we just talked yesterday. No guilt, no weirdness. Just real-deal connection that doesn’t expire with time.

But let’s talk about how damn hard it can be to make new friends in your 50s. Everyone’s got lives, jobs, kids (or grandkids), chronic fatigue, or hormone-induced introversion. It’s not like elementary school, where you bond over matching pencils and recess drama. Now? It takes real effort. And courage.

Still, I’ve found gems in unexpected places: through my kids’ friends' moms, from work, even at events or random DMs turned instant “you get me” connections. Some friendships started with a shared eye roll. Others with, “Wait, you’ve been through that too?”

But let’s be real: female friendships aren’t always easy. They’re emotional. Intimate. Complicated. Sometimes one of us carries more weight, does more of the reaching out, or holds space we’re not even sure we have. In midlife, we don’t have time for friendships that drain us. This is the season of intentional, mutually energizing bonds.

Here’s what I’m learning:
I don’t need a massive crew. I need the right crew.
I no longer chase friendships out of nostalgia or guilt.
I invest in the people who pour back into me.
I don’t need to be everyone’s go-to girl. Just my own.

Now let’s flip the script for a second and talk about our male counterparts.

According to Charles Bauman, therapist and friendship researcher, a lot of men don’t build friendships so much as they orbit them, around work, sports, or their kids' activities. He calls these triangulating entities. And once the triangle breaks? Game over. No drama. Just silence.

That’s where women are different. Female friendships aren’t background noise; they’re lifelines. Emotional, layered, sometimes messy, but often magical. We’ll drive cross-country to help a friend pack up her divorce. We’ll text each other about our mammograms, our pelvic floor therapists, our kids’ crises, and the fact that our bras are now classified as medieval torture devices. And when we find our people, we keep them, even if life gets loud.

Which means, when we’re out living our best midlife lives, prioritizing deep convos, wine nights, and group texts with our girls, we sometimes get side-eyed by a partner (if there’s one in the picture). Why? Because maybe they, especially the males in the bunch, never built their own support system. It’s not always the case, but let’s be real: most women were raised to connect, and most men were taught to wing it.

Here’s the deal: you are not responsible for being your partner’s entire village. You get to have your friends. You get to protect that time and energy. And if he’s feeling left out, that’s his cue to build his own damn crew.

Midlife friendship isn’t about quantity or optics. It’s about quality, joy, safety, and reciprocity. It’s about building the village we actually want to live in.

And if you’re lucky enough to have even just one person who texts back, who knows your childhood trauma and your favorite mascara, who celebrates your glow-up and sits with you through the burnouts, cherish her. Call her. Send the damn meme.

Because that? That’s the good stuff.

My circle has shifted with every decade. I’ve got:
• my lifer since birth,
• a group from elementary school who still know (and remember) all my secrets,
• a few (men and women) from work - some stuck, some didn’t,
• one or two fierce souls I met through my kids,
• and a handful of newer women who feel like old magic.

And some of my closest friends? I don’t talk to them every day, or even every month, but when we do connect, it’s like we never stopped. The thread never breaks. It just waits for us to pick it up.

So here’s to the long-haulers, the latecomers, and the ones who show up when it counts. They’re the real ride-or-die crew.

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