Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links. If you click and make a purchase, we may receive a small commission at no extra cost to you. We only recommend products we genuinely use, love, or believe align with the After Scroll philosophy.Moving to a new city without knowing anyone is one of the loneliest experiences, especially when you’re far from family. I’ve done it multiple times—and I’m here to tell you it gets easier, but not in the ways you expect.
I know what it’s like to walk into a room full of people and feel completely invisible. To spend weekends alone in a new apartment, scrolling through social media watching other people’s lives while yours feels like it hasn’t started yet. To wonder if you made a mistake moving here. If you’re somehow broken because making friends as an adult feels impossibly hard.
I’ve moved to new cities—new countries—multiple times now. Always starting from zero. Always carrying the quiet hope that this time, I’d figure out how to make friends in a new city faster, better, more naturally. It never happened fast. It was never easy. But it did happen. And looking back, I can finally see what worked, what didn’t, and why the loneliness felt so much heavier than I expected.
If you’re reading this because you just moved somewhere new and you’re feeling lonely, lost, or like you’re the only person who can’t figure this out—you’re not. This is hard. It’s supposed to be hard. And you’re doing better than you think.
Why Making Friends in a New City Feels Unbearably Heavy
When I moved to the United States in 2017 to study, I didn’t know a single person. Not one familiar face. No family nearby. No friends from back home who happened to live in the same city. I thought I was prepared for that. I thought loneliness would just be… temporary. A few weeks of adjustment, maybe a month. And then I’d find my people and everything would feel normal again. It didn’t work that way.
What I didn’t understand then—what no one really tells you—is that when you don’t have family nearby, friendships carry a different kind of weight. You’re not just looking for people to hang out with. You’re looking for a safety net. For people who will check on you when you’re sick. For someone to call when something goes wrong and the feeling of being held by a community again. That’s a lot to ask from a casual acquaintance you met at a coffee shop.
And when every interaction feels loaded with that unspoken need, it makes everything harder. You show up to events hoping this will be the moment you finally connect with someone. You have a good conversation and immediately wonder if this person could become a close friend. And then you exchange numbers and feel crushed when they don’t text back. The desperation is invisible, but it’s there. And people can sense it, even if they can’t name it.
I spent months in that cycle. Going to events. Trying to be friendly. Feeling like I was doing everything right and still ending up alone on Friday nights. Eventually, I started avoiding social situations altogether because the disappointment felt worse than the isolation. That’s when I realized I was approaching this all wrong.
The Shift That Changed Everything
The turning point came when I stopped trying to make friends in a new city and started trying to build a life I actually enjoyed—whether I had friends yet or not.
That sounds simple, but it’s not. When you’re lonely, the temptation is to make every decision based on whether it might lead to friendship. You choose activities because you think other people will be there. You say yes to things you don’t enjoy because you’re afraid of missing an opportunity.
But here’s what I learned: desperation repels people. Authenticity attracts them.
When I finally started choosing activities I genuinely cared about—not because they seemed social, but because they interested me—everything shifted. I stopped performing and trying to be likeable. I just… showed up as myself, doing things I actually wanted to do.
And slowly, people started showing up too.
Start With Interests, Not Networking
One of the most practical ways to make friends in a new city is to put yourself in spaces where you already share something with the people around you.
Not because it guarantees friendship—it doesn’t. But because it removes the hardest part of starting conversations: finding common ground.
I’ll be honest: I’m not naturally outgoing. Small talk exhausts me. Walking into a room full of strangers makes me want to leave immediately. So the idea of “just putting myself out there” felt paralyzing.
But joining a group based on a shared interest was different. There was already something to talk about. The activity itself became the buffer. I wasn’t there to perform socially—I was there to do something I cared about. And if I never said a word to anyone, at least I enjoyed the activity.
Where to Actually Find These Groups
If you’re in the U.S., Meetup is genuinely one of the best resources for this. I know it sounds generic, but I’ve used it in multiple cities and it works. You’ll find:
- Running groups
- Book clubs
- Hiking groups
- Coffee meetups
- Language exchanges
- Bowling nights
- Board game groups
The variety is surprising. And because everyone there is also looking to meet people, there’s less awkwardness than you’d expect.
Libraries often host events too—reading groups, author talks, community gatherings. These tend to attract people who are thoughtful and curious, which I found made conversations easier.
Churches (if that’s part of your life) can be a meaningful place to connect. In 2021, when I moved to northern Massachusetts during the pandemic, church was where I eventually made my first real friends. It wasn’t instant. It took months of showing up. But it became a point of stability when everything else felt uncertain.
Local community boards, neighborhood newsletters, and county event calendars are worth checking, especially in summer when cities offer more public events. Farmers markets, outdoor concerts, free yoga in the park—these are low-pressure ways to be around people without the intensity of a formal social event.
The point isn’t to attend everything. It’s to choose one or two things you genuinely enjoy and show up consistently.
Consistency Matters More Than Charisma
This was the hardest lesson for me to learn: you don’t need to be outgoing to make friends in a new city. You need to be visible in the same places long enough for people to recognize you.
Friendship often starts with familiarity. Seeing the same faces week after week. A nod. A brief comment. A shared moment that doesn’t need to be deep. Over time, those small interactions accumulate into something steadier.
I made the mistake, early on, of constantly switching places. New cafés, classes, groups. I thought I was being proactive, maximizing my chances. But what I was actually doing was preventing recognition. No one knew who I was because I never stayed anywhere long enough to become familiar.
When I finally started going to the same coffee shop every week, sitting in the same general area, ordering the same drink—I started recognizing faces. And they started recognizing me. We didn’t become best friends overnight. But there was a comfort in that repeated presence. A quiet acknowledgment that we were part of the same small ecosystem.
Eventually, one of those familiar faces turned into a conversation. And that conversation, over time, turned into something more.
Learning to Be Alone in Public (Without Feeling Pathetic)
This is one of the hardest parts, especially at first. There’s a vulnerability in going places alone. Sitting by yourself at a café. Entering a restaurant without company. Attending an event solo.
It can feel exposed. Even embarrassing. Like everyone is watching and silently judging you for being alone.
But here’s the truth: most people aren’t paying that much attention. And in many cities—especially in the U.S.—being alone in public is far more normal than it seems.
I used to avoid restaurants entirely because I couldn’t bear the idea of eating alone. But eventually, I forced myself to try it. I picked a place with bar seating (which feels less conspicuous than a table for one). I brought a book and I ordered food.
And you know what happened? Nothing. No one cared. The bartender was friendly. A few people sitting nearby made casual comments. It wasn’t the mortifying experience I’d built it up to be in my head.
That small act of courage—choosing to be present in public even when I felt self-conscious—made everything else easier. Because isolation deepens when we wait to be invited instead of choosing to participate.
My Story: Four Moves, Four Fresh Starts
I’ve had to figure out how to make friends in a new city more times than I’d like to count.
2017: I moved to the U.S. to study. I was in my twenties, alone in a foreign country, without family or friends nearby. I thought I’d adjust quickly. But I didn’t. The loneliness was physical—this ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. But slowly, through classes and just showing up, I started meeting people. Not all of them became close friends. But enough did that I eventually felt less alone.
2021: I moved to northern Massachusetts during the pandemic. This move felt even harder because the world was still half-closed. Social gatherings were limited. Masks made casual conversations feel distant. I started going to a local church, mostly because I needed structure. It took months before anyone really talked to me beyond polite greetings. But eventually, I made a few friends there. Not a huge social circle, but enough.
2022: I stayed with a friend in Rhode Island who had just bought a house. She didn’t know anyone in the area either, so we were both kind of starting fresh together. During those two weeks, I met the man who would become my husband. That wasn’t planned. That wasn’t the result of some strategic social effort. It just… happened. While I was busy trying to build a life.
When I moved to Rhode Island permanently: I had my husband, which made everything feel less lonely. But I still didn’t have a social circle. And even though I wasn’t alone in the same way, I still had to figure out how to make friends in a new city all over again.
Each move taught me something. The first move taught me that loneliness doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. The second taught me that consistency matters more than effort. The third taught me that connection often happens when you stop trying so hard.
What Actually Worked (And What Didn’t)
This is What Worked:
- Showing up to the same place repeatedly, even when it felt awkward
- Choosing activities I genuinely enjoyed, not just ones that seemed social
- Being okay with surface-level connections for a long time before they deepened
- Lowering my expectations for how fast friendships would form
- Learning to enjoy my own company so I wasn’t radiating desperation
This is What Didn’t Work:
- Trying to force depth too quickly (suggesting hangouts after one conversation)
- Switching places constantly instead of building familiarity
- Waiting to be invited instead of initiating (even small things like “Want to grab coffee?”)
- Comparing my social life to what I had before or what other people seemed to have
- Avoiding going out because I’d have to go alone
Lower the Emotional Stakes
Not every person you meet needs to become a close friend. Some connections are seasonal. Some stay light. And some never move beyond shared activity. That’s okay. That doesn’t make them failures.
When I stopped expecting every new person to fill the void of family or long-term friendships, everything became easier. A weekly group I enjoyed. A familiar face at the café. A short conversation after class. These weren’t “lesser” relationships. They were often the soil where deeper friendships eventually grew.
But they couldn’t do that if I was constantly pressuring them to become more than they were ready to be.
Give the City—and Yourself—Time
Every city has its own rhythm. Some places are warm and welcoming immediately. Others take longer to crack open socially. This isn’t personal—it’s cultural.
And every person adjusts at a different pace. Some people walk into a room and make friends instantly. Others (like me) need more time, more repetition, more familiarity before connection feels natural.
Neither way is better. But if you’re someone who needs time, it’s easy to feel like you’re failing when you see others connect effortlessly. You’re not failing. You’re just building differently.
Instead of trying to recreate the social life you had before, allow the city to shape something new. Observe. Participate. Stay curious. Over time, patterns emerge. People recognize you. Invitations happen quietly, often when you least expect them.
If You’re Feeling Lonely Right Now
If you’re in the middle of this—if you moved somewhere new and you’re still waiting for your life to feel like yours again—I want you to know something: Feeling lonely doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means you’re between chapters.
The in-between is uncomfortable. It’s supposed to be. But it doesn’t last forever.
Keep showing up. Not to every event, not to every opportunity, but to the few things that feel genuine to you. Keep going to that coffee shop and keep attending that group. Keep saying yes when someone suggests something, even when you’re tired.
And on the days when it feels too hard, when you just want to stay home and avoid the whole exhausting process—that’s okay too. Rest. Recharge. Try again tomorrow.
With consistency, humility, and time, most people do find their place. Often, it happens quietly—while you’re busy building a life.
And one day, you’ll realize that the city that once felt impossibly foreign now feels like home. Not because you figured out some perfect formula for making friends in a new city, but because you stayed long enough for connection to become possible.
If this way of thinking resonates with you, After Scroll is where I explore how to build a quieter, more intentional life in a noisy digital world — one focused choice at a time. You can subscribe to the newsletter to read what I’m building, in real time.
