Group Chat is a weekly series where HuffPost UK writers discuss friendship, diary dilemmas and how to reclaim our social lives in a busy world.
I’m a staunch believer in not mixing friendship groups – that’s despite being lucky enough to have a few: the group I went to school with, the group I met at work, my university gang, and a handful of individuals in between. I love them all, but mostly that’s because they’re so different.
And no, I have absolutely no intention of bringing them together. I’ll never be that person who invites everyone to a single gathering to blend and bond them. The thought of all that responsibility makes me cringe.
The one time I tried it, during the uni years, my school friends had come to visit for a big night ‘out out’ in London. This resulted in an ill-advised trip to Zoo Bar – one of Leicester Square’s most overpriced dives – and a drunken McDonald’s on the night bus back to halls. But that’s neither here nor there.
When I introduced my home mates to my flatmates before we went out, it felt awkward and uncomfortable. This is more to do with me than them, I think – it’s like something comes over me and I instantly feel like the dullest person alive and lose all ability to chat – which only confirms my worst fears that I am boring.
I have enough self-belief to know I’m not, I think, at least not when I’m a guest. But having never really hosted stuff that required me to mix groups when I was younger, it’s been easy to keep it that way. Anything else feels too much like pressure. Which admittedly is illogical – the reality is that my friend are all adults who have had at least one thing in common: me.
So there’s no reason why it shouldn’t have been fine on that night out in London. But the Vodka Orange was the only mixer I could get along with.
The colleague who sits opposite me at work shares my distaste of getting friendship groups together. “I did it for my birthday last year and it went well – it’s fulfilling when it works – but there was so much anxiety leading up to it. I’m too much of a worrier to do it all the time,” she tells me.
But our desk neighbour – a self-diagnosed group organiser – is a big fan of the mingle, and says that when she went on holiday with a mix of friends, she had a whale of a time. She even introduced two of them, who hit it off and are now mates in their own right, meeting up independently of her. She’s cool with that.
Meanwhile, I hate the idea of the organising – keeping on top of people who are coming or not coming, and then when the day, night out, party, week in Spain or whatever, arrives, being responsible for everyone’s fun. No thank you. I’m a great guest, always down to help the host, but being one is a solid no from me.
Did I say my friends are all very different? Perhaps it’s me who’s different around them. I met the university lot at 18, entering into the social whirl of student life with a lingering teenage awkwardness. My school friends, in comparison, I felt – and still feel – completely myself around, thanks to a decade’s friendship. Between us we’re too lazy to host anything that involves inviting anyone else. I’m talking a school night Nando’s catchup at best.
Then there’s my work friends, who I met while interning at fashion magazines and who could get us world peace with their skills in social diplomacy and networking. We bond over the joys and stresses of our jobs, our favourite binge TV (Derry Girls, at the moment), our travel stories, and how expensive living in London is. At their annual birthday parties, to which they always invite a minimum of 50 people (most of whom I don’t know), I’ve met some brilliant people, and I’m now friends with some of them, too.
I realise this is a double standard – that I benefit hugely from their mixing. And anything organised by these pals is a guaranteed good time. But it’s still not something you’ll find me doing. I love my friends, I love their company even more, and most of my favourite parties, holidays and memories have been with them – but I’ll have all the more of those if I keep everyone separate. For now.