Lonely? Dial 1-800-Get-a-Friend

Making new friends is the hardest part about leaving the area where you grew up.

Living in Southeast Missouri with various ties to Cape Girardeau, Sikeston and Charleston, I had a friend or acquaintance waiting around every corner, typically in the corners at the Wal-Mart Supercenter when I was wearing sweat pants and no makeup, pushing a cart full of feminine products, beer and ice cream. (I never learn.) And it was wonderful to feel so comfortable, like there would be someone around to help me no matter what.

Here in Florida, I had a couple of ready-made friends waiting for me, but you can't go back to them time and again when you want to socialize. They'd have that inevitable look that says, "Dang! I'm trying to have a life. Why don't you try it?" Working opposite schedules in two area codes, The Other Half and I are facing the same no-friend problem at the same time. Always the extrovert, I tend to do a little better than he does in the social arena.

So late one sad Saturday night, sitting in front of the television again, Mr. Half sighed and turned to me.

"How do you make friends?" he asked.

I said, "Offer them half of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich." Wasn't it great when that was enough? At age 10, I had Legos and the neighbor boy had Star Wars action figures, and a friendship was born building Lego spaceships to transport Han Solo and Princess Leia. At that age, friendship was about proximity more than anything. Without transportation, you had to make friends with kids your own age in your own neighborhood. Sharing interests wasn't an issue.

Sharing toys was. And the kid with the trampoline or the swimming pool was going to be the most popular.

Period.

Now that we're older, proximity isn't an issue. I drove 40 minutes to a new friend's barbecue on Sunday, for instance. And you and your peers are bound to have pretty much the same "toys." So you've got to find people with interests and personalities that mesh with your own, and that's a lot tougher. Me? Looking for people who like to eat, drink and watch TV. I know those are pretty obscure hobbies, but I think I can find a circle of friends if I really put myself out there.

It was a little depressing when Mr. Half, the introvert, was first to score an after-work drink invitation. I think he won them over by bringing in a tray of Greek pastries from a popular restaurant.

So maybe the peanut butter and jelly theory of making friends still works in adulthood, only on a more expensive scale.

And speaking of proximity not equaling friendship, we've got some new neighbors. They're extremely nice people, but they own a dog that is making me rethink my stance against animal cruelty.

Every time I enter or exit my apartment, I'm greeted by this: "BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!" "SHUT UP, BUDDY!" "BARK! BARK!" "BUDDY, I SAID SHUT UP!" "BARK! BARK! BARK!" As an added bonus, they've decorated their balcony with a large plastic goose wearing a shamrock-covered dress. How much do you want to bet that goose has an outfit for every holiday? I'm trying to find the humor in it. When my friend Nancy comes for a visit this weekend, I'm going to steer her in the direction of that apartment and say, "Guess what? We've taken on some cool new roommates!"

It'll be a blast.

Heidi Hall is the former managing editor of the Southeast Missourian who now lives in St. Petersburg, Fla.