Spend the months and years leading up to quarantine being a caring and genuinely interesting enough person that spending a few months apart doesn’t make everyone forget that you exist.
Simply open your window to be greeted with the familiar sounds of your neighbor screaming out every word of her phone call.
When in doubt, try to remember that though they may be physically far, we’re all connected to our friends and family by our unyielding terror of imminent death.
Prepare a second place setting even when you’re dining alone to convince yourself your guest wanted to be there but got in a horrific car accident on the way over.
For a ghostly, uncanny facilime of the thing that used to give your life meaning, try Zoom.
Reach out to friends with depression or anxiety to see if they’ve gotten over it yet and are now fun to hang out with.
Remember, there are hundreds of thousands of fucked-up online communities out there that will take any loser, weirdo, or freak.
Instead of reaching out to new people, first focus on strengthening strained connections inside your home. For example, do you even know any of your spatulas’ names or their birthdays, or have you perhaps been taking them for granted?
Hey, we’ve given you plenty of tips, so can you do one thing for us? Great, could you email us your home address? It’s a little embarrassing. We ordered some Tenga Eggs for the editorial board to share, but we don’t want our neighbors to see the Tenga-branded truck pull up. You’d really be helping us out, and you can use them one time before contacting us if you promise to rinse.
Sing alone on your balcony and pray to God someone else joins in, because otherwise…yikes. That would be pretty embarrassing. You, alone on a balcony, just belting out some song to yourself? That’s something a lunatic would do.
Build a life-size replica of Mark Ruffalo out of papier-mâché so you can have someone to hang out with.
