we could have been friends in another lifetime

‘Let’s exchange numbers and work out sometime together’, she beams, already reaching for her phone.

We just finished an hour-long Calisthenics group workout with 20 people, out of breath and high on endorphins. I’d been in a team of five with her and her friend, both handstand enthusiasts, and two other people cycling through different endurance exercises in rounds.

I’d only seen them twice before, but we’d bonded very quickly over our shared obsession for hand balancing, exchanging tricks and tips in the short breaks, while gasping for air and reaching for our water bottles, talking about our next fitness goals.

‘What’s your Instagram?’, she has found her phone and holds it in front of me to type my name in.

I replied that I had deleted my account (every time I say this it feels like a confession that I’m an alien) and gave her my number instead.

‘Where do you guys usually train?’, I asked.

‘In summer, we’re always outside in the park’.

Summer. I had completely forgotten most people plan weeks and months ahead, in comparison to me who is currently living day by day. I tried to explain that I’m looking for jobs in another city and won’t be staying long.

The disappointment in her eyes caught me off guard.

‘Oooh, that’s a pity. The best people always move away. Why do you want to leave?’

I heard myself saying something about wanting to live in a bigger city - condensing months of ambiguity and confusion into some vague, weightless sentences.

I wondered if I should suggest to simply meet next week anyway. When I was living abroad, spontaneous plans were the norm. But in cities I always assume that people are planned out weeks in advance.

Looking back, I should have asked, but I didn’t.

She invited me to join them for a post-workout sauna session, which I politely declined since I hadn’t brought a towel.

We hugged goodbye, and I left hoping to see them again next week.

She hasn’t messaged me since.

I find myself wondering if the three-day rule in dating also applies to potential friendships.

Sometimes it’s easier to not get close in the first place, if you know your time has an expiration date. And if you already have a rich circle of friends. Why even bother investing in a short-term friendship?

It’s exhausting, saying goodbye to people you have already let into your heart.

I think this is the most insidious part about being stuck between two chapters.

The old life is sealed.
The new one hasn’t arrived yet.
And in the gap, I’m holding back on living.

Not pouring too much into old friendships here, nor building new ones either.
The loneliness and isolation don’t take a front seat, but are constantly lingering in the background.
A silent emotional exhaustion that takes a long time to notice.

Making lasting, tight friendships as an adult is harder than I could have ever imagined. In recent years, I’ve been the one who has been either living abroad, nomading or travelling - the latter resulting in mostly short-lived intense friendships that inevitably became long-distance. I collected many beautiful memories with different people and experienced adventures I’ll cherish forever.

And it’s not that I don’t want to settle. I really do. Two years ago I got tired of all the ‘see you soons’ and decided to find a permanent base. Unfortunately, my plans keep getting crossed and I still haven’t landed on solid ground yet.

On my way home, I keep thinking about the interactions with the handstand girls.

What if I accepted a job here and stayed here?

We would meet in the park every few weeks, cheering each other on, chatting about our handstand progress, and celebrating little wins that only people with the same obsession get. Eventually, we would add little picnics and bring in other friends. We would discover more common interests, go on casual coffees or slow Sunday walks, philosophising about life.

We could have been part of each other’s everyday life.

We could have been friends in another lifetime.