Dear Dáithí: I'm turning 30 and have no one to celebrate with. What am I doing wrong? 

The pandemic messed with a lot of people’s social rhythms. You’re not alone in feeling like you’ve been stuck ever since
Dear Dáithí: I'm turning 30 and have no one to celebrate with. What am I doing wrong? 

Dáithí Ó Sé: "Turning 30 is a brilliant chance to draw a line in the sand. This letter you wrote? That’s your first step. And that first step is often the hardest one. But don’t ever think people don’t care. That’s a story our brains like to tell us when we’re feeling low." Picture: Domnick Walsh

Dear Dáithí,

My 30th birthday is coming up, and the truth is, I have no friends to celebrate with.  I have a small family — a sister who is five years older than me and lives in Birmingham. 

She wouldn’t think to come home for this. We never really hung around together socially. I live with my parents. They’re great, but they don’t make a fuss about things.

I work in a small company and haven’t gone back to the office since the pandemic. I won’t even get a work card. I have friends online, but it would be weird to ask them to meet in real life. 

I wish I had someone who cared enough to organise a party for me. I’ve never had a proper girlfriend.

It’s making me really sad, and I’m realising there’s no one close to me.

What am I doing wrong? 

I’m going to start with the question you ask at the end of your letter — wondering what you’re doing wrong. The answer is: nothing. That’s what you’re doing. Nothing. And that’s the problem here.

You’re turning 30. You work from home and don’t even have a work card. All your friends are online. You live at home with your parents. You’ve never had a girlfriend.

You need to get off your arse and get out.

More importantly, you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. If that sounds harsh — well, I’m sorry, but someone has to say it.

You say your parents are great and don’t make a fuss — that sounds like the kind of parents many people would love to have. They’re giving you space to live your own life, but you’re not actually living it. That’s not on them.

You mentioned your sister — she’s five years older and you never hung around much. That’s completely normal. Most siblings don’t socialise together as kids. But do you know what happens as we get older? We reconnect — if we make the effort.

You say she wouldn’t think of coming home for your birthday. But… did you ask her?

Pick up the phone. Send a message. That alone is a good first step. I bet she’d be delighted to hear from you. You’re her only sibling. Why not go see her for a weekend in Birmingham? Mad idea, maybe — but wouldn’t it be nice to shake things up a bit?

Let’s talk about how things need to change. The pandemic messed with a lot of people’s social rhythms. You’re not alone in feeling like you’ve been stuck ever since. But the pandemic is long over, thank God — and its hangover should be fading too.

What I hear in your letter is loneliness, and that’s not something to feel ashamed of. But it is something you can challenge. The first step is doing something different. Anything.

You’re worried your online friends would think it’s weird if you asked to meet up in real life. I don’t think so. Maybe one or two might — but I bet most of them would actually be relieved someone suggested it.

I did an online course last year and made virtual friends for the first time. We met every Wednesday for a year. I finally met one of them in person, and it was a lovely moment. You could do the same — choose one or two you get on with and invite them to something low-key.

Turning 30 is a brilliant chance to draw a line in the sand. This letter you wrote? That’s your first step. And that first step is often the hardest one. But don’t ever think people don’t care. That’s a story our brains like to tell us when we’re feeling low. It’s not the truth. Challenge it. Keep challenging it. You’re not alone.

So let’s get to the birthday party. Here’s the plan: pick a Saturday night near your birthday and book a few tables in a pub. Tell your parents. Call your sister. Ask your online friends.

If you’re feeling bold, go for a theme — Star Wars, sexy male RTÉ presenters, whatever makes you smile. Make it fun. Let it say something about you. It’s a signal that you're someone worth knowing — and you are.

More than anything, you need to shift your mindset. Start doing things that bring you joy. If you like going for a few pints — do that. If you like playing cards — find a club. You might even meet someone who likes the same things you do.

Oh — and I don’t want to ruin any surprises, but… what if your sister and your parents are planning something behind your back?

Whatever happens — I hope you celebrate. You deserve to.

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