I met David in line for a concert in Auckland a couple months back. I was faced with the feat of attending a gig alone, as someone who is a victim of a relatively insufferable music taste and introvertism. Despite not having mates by my side, it wouldn’t motivate me any further to face my fears and talk to a stranger. I arrived with a long wait before doors opened, and stood silently in a zig-zagged queue, feeling what felt like real sun for the first time this summer.
An hour into the wait, David and I accidentally made eye contact and he began to speak. I couldn’t tell you what that conversation was about now – all that mattered is that we had found a way to make time speed along. In that queue, I learnt David and I have almost nothing in common.
David is American, I am a Kiwi. I finished my bachelor’s in 2025 – David in 2016. I studied genetics and David studied marketing. And so on. Despite my surprise in learning he was ten years older than me, our subsequent night together at this concert taught me an important lesson about life and friendship. There’s a lot to learn from people who share almost no similarities with you.
I can admit that my friendships reflect the world around me. I’m a University of Otago student who grew up in New Zealand – most of my friends are exactly the same. A transgenerational friendship is a rare sight in my circles, but it's been interesting to see when lived experiences are shared with each other, despite the gap. Despite being raised in completely different environments, it can be surprising just how much you can have in common.
Once doors opened, David and I managed to snag two free seats close to the stage, and briefly stopped the chat to experience a couple hours of musical immersion. Afterwards, we quickly debriefed the concert as we exited the venue, and parted ways. Unknown to me at the time was that this wouldn’t be the last time I saw David. Just over a month later we were having drinks in Dunedin. We both reflected on the ways we had deconstructed past beliefs, our hands both clutched around ice-cold Corona bottles. Ōtepoti was the last place I would have expected to have such sincere conversations that changed my world view – with a thirty-one year old.
Another lesson I have learned from David and I’s friendship are our differences in communication. David doesn’t have social media, whereas my social life revolves around it. David uses WhatsApp for the same purpose I use Messenger. I downloaded WhatsApp for David. We used it to talk a little bit, and send pictures of the Laneway mosh when we tried (and failed) to meet up for a set. From our conversations I have learnt about the different slang we use, how we communicate ideas and convey information.
Despite the lack of things in common, gaining a friend in another generation has exposed me to life experience and knowledge I would have never gotten. One consequence of North D is almost everyone is below the age of twenty-five. While it’s awesome when it comes to student culture, it has come at the cost of meeting more people whose life does not revolve around being an Otago student. David and I’s friendship made me realise I have missed so many opportunities to form fulfilling friendships like these.
So even if you’re shy, I encourage you to befriend a thirty-one year old man. Or a forty year old woman. Whoever, so long as they’ve got some life lessons to share. The world is your oyster, there’s so much to learn outside the shackles of our cold flats, and secularity of student life. (Just make sure your new friend isn’t crazy).
