For my 30th birthday, which is a little over a year away, I want to go to Tokyo with my friends.
My friend group met freshman year in college, and we soon started doing everything together—from studying in the library to playing pool. Since graduation, we’ve made efforts to stay in touch, including regular group chats and doing our best to visit each other.
So celebrating my 30th birthday seems like a great way to keep that connection going.
The problem is that money has introduced some roadblocks to my grand plan. Our financial lives have diverged since those simpler days when we all could afford to do the same things—which wasn’t much as self-proclaimed “starving college students.” Some of us can afford to take that Japan trip tomorrow. Some people, like myself, will need a year to save for it. And others might not be able to afford to take the trip at all. After all, that journey halfway around the globe will cost a few thousand dollars at the least.
This is a conundrum facing not only my friend group, but many people in my generation (or any generation, for that matter). The connections we had in college can be harder to maintain in our later 20s and 30s because our careers have taken us in different financial directions.
“It’s natural as people evolve in life that they will have different lifestyles,” says Yasmine Saad, the founder and chief executive of Madison Park Psychological Services. “So naturally, there’s a separation that happens.”
The hope, she says, is that there are enough things that bond us, and those foundations can be strong enough to prevent friendships from rupturing.
In college, most of our bank accounts looked the same: close to empty.
A few of us got jobs doing the same things—working concessions at football games or delivering copies of the school newspaper. We found free things to do like playing sports and videogames. We joke with each other that we all have a minor in playing pool.
We became such close friends because our experiences and struggles were so similar.
After graduating from college, I moved to New York, but most of my friends stayed in Atlanta. That means we’ve had to make a conscious effort to stay in touch. We want to continue to make memories together—and, for the group as a whole, travel is enticing because it’s a way to continue to share experiences even as our lives have diverged.
While we all are in agreement about travel in theory, however, it has proved to be much more complicated in practice.
The group has tried hard not to exclude anyone. After all, the point is for all of us to continue to do things together. But doing so also has hindered our ability to explore new places as a group—at least places where the budget becomes a factor.
We’ve been successful going on small trips and visiting each other. But for cost reasons, we’ve unsuccessfully tried to plan trips to Miami, Las Vegas and Chicago.
For people who have the means to travel, that can be frustrating even if they recognize the reason. “You start to understand that everyone has different capabilities at different times,” one of my friends says.
Some of us have become so cynical when the topic of a trip comes up that we text each other “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Our group was created on the commonality of inclusion and support. Because travel and its costs now would likely exclude some of us, Saad says, it’s possible that some people in the group may have hard feelings toward taking vacations because trips would probably exclude some of us.
To be sure, the notion of leaving some people behind can carry guilt for the individuals who can afford it—and those who don’t have the funds to travel can sometimes feel like anchors holding others back.
I used to feel guilty about the idea of going places without my friends, but I’ve realized that if I wait for the entire group to be able or willing to take a trip, I’ll never go anywhere. At least one of us will always have a scheduling conflict or expense getting in the way. I believe that we are close enough—and mature enough—that no one would have hard feelings about it.
So what will the group do going forward?
We haven’t had an official discussion. But from several smaller conversations that have taken place, I believe we’ve come to the understanding that not everyone will be able to afford—or even want to go—on every trip we plan. And that’s OK. It doesn’t mean we are leaving a soldier behind; we are just accepting the reality of the situation.
It also feels like our lives have been diverging in more ways than just financially. The group was tightknit because our past experiences and upbringing were so similar. But as we grow older and create more experiences outside of the college cocoon—with partners, spouses and work friends, for instance—the original connection has become harder to maintain.
Saad suggests that—in addition to video calls and group chats—we agree to visit certain friends in hometowns and go on vacations with others. That solution may be a way to meet everyone where they are. I ran it by the group, and they weren’t opposed to it.
And the Tokyo trip? Of course, I would prefer to go with the entire friend group, but the roster is pending. The expense is just too big of an obstacle, especially for a group of seven or eight people. Instead, a few friends have looked into cheap cruises for early next year.
In truth, it may have always been more important to me to visit Tokyo; I have wanted to go there for years. So I’ll go on the birthday trip—even if it’s by myself.
And, if that turns out to be the case, I’ll tell my friends all about my plans when we are on that cheap cruise. Regardless, I’m looking forward to both.
Write to Isaac Taylor at [email protected].
2024-10-20T14:14:50Z