Posted on December 15th, 2025

Nobody tells you how hard it is to make friends after 40.

When you're young, it happens without trying. School. Work. Parties. You're constantly thrown into rooms with new people and some of them stick. You don't think about it. You don't have to.

Then you hit a certain age and realize you've been running on the same handful of friendships for years. Maybe decades. And you love those people. But your world has gotten smaller. The rooms you used to walk into don't exist anymore. Or they do, but they're full of strangers who feel like a different species.

I know this because I've lived it.

I tried. I really did. I joined groups. I showed up to things alone hoping to meet new people. I went to every Meetup that seemed like it might be my crowd. I met some interesting disasters along the way. Eventually I stopped trying and toughed it out with the friends I already had.

That's what most of us do. We stop looking. Not because we don't want more. But because the looking got too hard and the rooms kept letting us down.

I've stood in rooms feeling completely invisible. I've left parties early because I couldn't find a single person worth talking to. I've gone home wondering if it's me. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I've aged out of something and no one told me.

But here's what I've learned: it's not you. It's the rooms.

Most social spaces aren't designed for connection. They're designed for volume. Get as many people in as possible. Charge them for drinks. Let them figure out the rest. Nobody's thinking about who's in the room. Nobody's thinking about whether these people have anything in common. Nobody's thinking at all.

And we wonder why we feel alone in a crowd.

The secret to finding your people again isn't showing up more. It's showing up differently. It's being intentional about where you go. It's saying no to rooms that drain you and yes to rooms that might actually give you something back.

I spent years hoping I'd stumble into the right room by accident. It didn't work. The world had changed too much. The rooms I remembered were gone.

So I started thinking about what made those old rooms work. And the answer wasn't complicated. It was intention. Someone cared about who was there. Not just how many people came, but who they were. What they brought to the room. Whether they'd add to the energy or take from it.

That's what's missing now. Curation. Care. Someone actually thinking about the room before people walk into it.

When I started building Selective Soirées, that was the whole point. Not to throw events. Not to fill seats. But to create a room where the right people could find each other. People who remember what going out used to feel like. People who still have something to say. People who show up with style and presence.

I can't script the night. But I can promise the room will be right. The people will be chosen with care. And you won't have to wonder if you belong there.

Because that's the thing about finding your people. It's not about luck. It's about being in the right room. And if the right room doesn't exist, sometimes you have to build it yourself.

That's what I'm doing. For me. And for everyone else who's been asking the same question.

Where did everyone go?

We're still here. We just needed a room.

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Selective Soirées

For people who remember.