Pajama party at 40

A brilliant column by Alex Williams in The New York Times has been the talk of social networks. Titled “Friends of a certain age: Why is it hard to make friends over 30?” the article examines the reasons for a situation that most of us start facing after we’ve crossed 25: how to make and retain friends?

“In your 30s and 40s, plenty of new people enter your life, through work, children’s play dates and, of course, Facebook. But actual close friends — the kind you make in college, the kind you call in a crisis — those are in shorter supply,” says the writer after describing an evening he spent with a soul mate and a potential best friend.

“We liked the same songs off Dylan’s ‘Blonde on Blonde’, the same lines from ‘Chinatown’. By the time the green curry shrimp had arrived, we were finishing each other’s sentences.” he writes, only to present the inevitable: “That was four years ago. We’ve seen each other four times since. We are ‘friends’, but not quite friends.”

The rest of the elegantly argued article explains how schedules, jobs, health concerns and family issues do not allow adults to reach out and make real friends.

Well, as someone who has thought hard and long about the issue, I have a solution: pajama parties! I’m not being facetious! Think about it. What with everybody’s packed schedules, their jobs, gym sessions, family time and travel, the only real quality time you can spend with people you want to get to know is at night at sleepovers.

This is not even remotely a sexual suggestion. Invite friends to watch a film, chat, go through old picture albums, listen to music or play your favourite board game. Away from the traditional norms and structures, you will be surprised how people relax, unwind and become their real selves.

Kids call it “hanging”. If the only time you get to “hang” is at night on weekends, go for it. Refuse to be limited to the boring rituals: the cocktails, dinners, brunches where you meet 100 people and get to know none.

The irony is that just when people have earned the right to really enjoy pajama parties — they don’t. By the time you’re an adult, you have a roof over your head, a spare bedroom, staff to help and have to seek no one’s permission to have friends sleep over.

Of course some issues have to be thought through. If you’re part of a couple, should you both invite one friend each (not necessarily part of a couple) whose time you can enjoy? What about sleeping arrangements? What if your friends are of the opposite sex? Will your significant other be on board with that? Etc etc. My suggestion is keep it simple: separate bedrooms and bathrooms so that the intimacy doesn’t get overwhelming.

When I suggest pajama parties as a solution to the isolation of your adult years, of course I mean friends in the old sense of the term. Friends with benefits (friends who sometimes have sex) may also be invited but it might get complicated as lines get blurred and you can’t remember when a pajama party turns into a relationship.

But it’s an idea worth spreading: that person who you struck up a conversation with on the films of Pedro Almodovar and had to reluctantly say goodbye to when the party was over? Invite them over with their DVDs. Or the man who knew everything about motorbikes or Hatha Yoga or Rio carnivals. Get him over for the night. Give yourself the gift of a new friend.

Pajama Parties. The brave new way out of adult Siberia. You read it here first.