I landed in Melbourne 3 weeks ago after travelling up the East Coast, and I was ready to start my next adventure. I was well versed at this point how hostels worked so I wasn’t exactly nervous. In fact, we’d spent 2 months jumping from one dorm room to another – I don’t think we’d stayed in the same bed for longer than 4 nights. Further to the point, everyone and their aunts seems to do the same journey up the East Coast (check out my itinerary if you’re interested!) so it was common for us to be walking down the street and suddenly hear a familiar ‘Oi! No way!’ turning to see someone we had met two destinations ago. 

But it was a bit different in Melbourne.

It was maybe the most intense holiday blues I’ve ever had. Our – essentially – 2 month long hiatus was at an end and reality had hit me like a brick wall. How was I going to find work to earn back the money I had so recklessly spent? And, more importantly, I suddenly knew no one in this new city aside from my partner. Everyone we’d met on our travels had ended the trip like us in Cairns and all of them had decided to move to Sydney. I’m still not convinced they didn’t have a secret meeting about it.

No matter, I thought, I’m sociable enough and I’d chat to a brick wall so I’d have NO problem making friends… right? 

I walked into our shared room, ready to chat to anyone who’d give me half a chance, already a grin on my face. I was overly aware of the bingo night that was happening that night at the hostel and already planned to invite people to it. 

So you can imagine how stumped I was when I realised there was no one there to invite. I mean, don’t get me wrong, if there was NO ONE in there, it wouldn’t have been as bad – you can’t be rejected by no one. But the tell-tale lights behind the curtains gave the game away. We had become victims to the anti-social dorm crisis.

The room was full, but it was apparent this hostel was not for fun-time Frankie. It was a place to rest and recoup before you trudged back to your bar job in the CBD. Suffice to say, I had a bit of a panic. I am a self-diagnosed extreme chatterer. I could talk all day if someone let me. James had no chance if I didn’t make any friends. But I had no idea how the hell I was going to meet anyone.

I sucked it up for a bit but that’s not to say I didn’t try! We went to the hostel events and wandered through the city – I even ended up getting a job (thank god!). But I was becoming overly aware of the impending week where James would be travelling up to Brisbane for work and then I truly would be alone. 

At this point we had moved into our little flatshare in St Kilda – truly a gorgeous place to live. We’d also briefly met our flatmates who were so lovely but I was still working up the courage to ask them to join us for a drink. 

I realised that I wasn’t going to get anywhere if I just bought crochet hooks and wool and hid in my room (yes I did actually do this). I had to build up the courage to do something where I had no choice BUT to meet and talk to other people living in the city. Some people might have joined a sports team or book club – I did look into this too I promise – but I love to be a little more chaotic.

So I booked a bar crawl through the hostel in St Kilda. They’ll be people (hopefully around-ish my age), AND they will be in the area AND it might actually be fun. I told James how I would be occupying my time whilst he was away and I think he was a little concerned that I had lost my mind, but seemed to understand/accept the necessity behind it. 

And yet, Saturday rolled around, and I wanted to do anything but go. Honestly, if I hadn’t paid for a ticket I don’t think I would’ve gone (a great piece of advice if you get cold feet – spend money on the thing – you’re less likely to back out). Alas, I wasn’t in a position to start wasting money. So I chucked jeans and a nice top on – a classic – smeared some eyeliner on and paced to the bar.

I rock up half an hour late and stand at the entrance like a lost duckling. I can see it now as I’m writing this. I tried to look nonchalant, but I think my wide-eyed bewilderment gave it away. I went to the bar and ordered a coke and found a table in the furthest corner whilst furiously swiping at my phone – a pantomime of someone waiting for a friend.

I was bigging myself up, two sides of me warring. One side wanted to pretend to answer a phone call and run outside, down the road, back to my room where I could hide until Sunday. The other side called me a wimp. I sent a text to James saying the following:

Do you see the laughing emojis?! This is how ludicrous the idea is that I could be shy. But I forgot how unnerving it was to throw yourself in a social situation at the – not old but not young – age of 26 and expect to meet lifelong friends.

So imagine my surprise when a friendly face appeared and asked if I was on my own. Yes, the bar crawl WAS successful. I was taken over to a group and played, albeit, the best beer pong I’ve ever played in my entire life. What’s more is that we later met up for dinner to talk to each other without the thumping music and dizzy water as my dad calls it. We even have plans to meet again later this week. 

So, are you on a working holiday and struggling to make friends? Good news! So is everyone else. I say screw it; throw yourself into the most awkward situations when travelling, pottery nights, bar crawls, book clubs, you name it. You never know who might be there.