EVERYTHING CHANGES, SORT OF…

35 years ago, I wrote a letter to a friend. Yes, a letter. Not a WhatsApp, not an email, not even a sly little nudge on Facebook Messenger. Back in the days when mobile phones were the stuff of science fiction, and the only “texting” you did involved a pen, some paper, and an inexplicably sticky envelope.

And l must say, in my humble opinion, the letter remains one of the best ways to connect with someone. There’s something about the authenticity of handwritten words that just can’t be matched by emojis, no matter how creative they get with those little yellow faces.

Anyway. At the time, we’d all just started university, having gone our separate ways we were scattered across the country like we were reenacting a really poorly organised relay race. To some degree or another we were all just finding our footing, making new friendships and realising where we actually sat in the food chain. Not always a comfortable process but a necessary one. Some of us were thriving, making friends, and becoming minor celebrities in the cafeteria. Others? Well, others were feeling like they’d shown up to the wrong party, in fancy dress and on the wrong night.

One of my closest mates was in the latter camp and he was struggling. His girlfriend - whom he had chosen his university for, had left him. The reason? “So many interesting new people.” Yeah, well, thanks for that. And he was drowning in this vast new ocean of freedom, friendship, and finding himself.

So I wrote him a long letter, as one does when you're armed with nothing but time and a questionable understanding of life. I tried to be encouraging, the way only a 19 year old can be. I told him to stop trying to ‘show her’ by immediately moving on with another girl. I mean, if you’re sinking, grabbing another anchor isn’t going to help. The gist of my message? It’s not about her - it’s about you. Build foundations, make new bonds, and most importantly, take control of your own life.

I closed with a line that I thought was profound at the time: “You have more in common with any random guy at the bar than you will with the woman you choose to spend your life with.” At 19, that felt like gospel. As I look back now, 35 years later, through the prism of marriage, changing social norms, and enough women’s rights movements to fill a small library, and wonder: has anything changed?

Let me clarify - ‘having more in common’ doesn’t mean ‘better suited for.’ It’s not about gender, and it’s certainly not about sex. It’s more about how men just gravitate towards the same conversations. Sit down with a bloke at a bar and within minutes, you’ll be exchanging opinions on football teams, favourite cars from your youth, or who the best supermodel was in the ‘90s (yes obviously, Cindy Crawford, thank you very much). It’s comfort food, simple but just what you need. Sure, some might call it superficial, but is it really? The same conversations you have with your best mates are often the same ones you’d have with a complete stranger: sports, music, cars, beer. Throw in a few pints, and suddenly you’ve had yourself a great night. We may not have solved the world’s problems but we have kept our world turning and stayed connected to it.

Fast forward to today, and you’d think things would have changed with all this enlightenment. Spoiler alert: they haven’t. If anything, it’s more complicated. Approaching a woman at a bar these days requires more mental preparation than sitting the bar exam. You need to angle yourself just right so you don’t appear threatening, announce your intentions like you’re presenting at a board meeting, and make sure you get express written permission before sharing her airspace. It’s exhausting.

And if, by some miracle, you’re invited to sit down, don’t think you’re in the clear. Oh no, now you’re in the etiquette minefield. Don’t touch her arm without permission. Don’t joke about the weather unless you’ve fact-checked the forecast. And for heaven’s sake, make sure you know her pronouns before you even dare to say “hello.” Blink too many times and you might just get a disapproving stare. Blink too few and, well, you might as well go live in a cave. (Okay, I made that last part up, but you get the point.)

The reality is, in our rush to prove how “evolved” we are, we’ve erected so many barriers that connecting with someone can feel like a bureaucratic nightmare. If you’re lucky, you’ll walk away with a signed, notarised consent form allowing for polite conversation and maybe, just maybe - a cup of coffee at a later date.

So, on reflection, I stand by what I said as a wide-eyed 19-year-old. We do have more in common with the random guy at the bar than we might with our partners, and I’m not sure that’s changed all that much.

But I do lament the passing of a simpler, happier time - when meeting someone was just about being yourself, not navigating a checklist of do’s and don’ts. If only we’d known back then how good we had it, we might’ve appreciated those moments a bit more. Turns out, they really were the best of times - letter writing and all.