I was desperate for human connection after moving to a new city, so I started a neighborhood book club. We're going strong almost a year later, and I've even made real friends.

• I moved to Philadelphia during the COVID-19 pandemic and didn't have any friends in the city.
• I became more isolated when I had a baby during the Omicron wave; it was impossible to meet anyone.
• Later, to make friends, I started a neighborhood book club. We're still going strong.

Like many young adults, my husband and I decided we needed a change during the COVID-19 lockdowns and moved to a smaller, more affordable city. We chose his hometown, Philadelphia, because it's a great city and he has a community here. I knew no one but thought I'd have some built-in friends because of my husband. Turns out I was wrong.

My husband has pals all over the city, but I quickly learned they're not big "get-together-ers." It's fine — these are his friendships, after all — but it left me pretty lonesome. On top of that, I had a baby during the Omicron wave, so my loneliness was compounded by the isolation of pandemic-era new motherhood.

Years ago, I turned to books to make friends

Before the pandemic, I had a vibrant life in Los Angeles. I worked from home but also had a full life of friendships, hobbies, and side gigs. I was busy, and I loved it, though it wasn't always that way.

A dozen years earlier, in 2010, I moved to LA for a job. I had no real friends in the city. I did meet a partner whom I got serious with pretty quickly, but outside my romantic relationship I was desperately lonely.

So I did what I often do when I'm lost: I turned to books.

I stumbled upon one called "MWF Seeking BFF: My Yearlong Search for a New Best Friend" by Rachel Bertsche. I related to the author's struggle: living in a new city with a partner and a good job but no friends. Brutal. But Bertsche was determined: To find some girlfriends, she committed to going on 52 friend dates in a year. She tried everything from book clubs to random events to improv classes to meet women, and some of it actually worked.

The main thing I took away from the book was "just say yes." Say yes if someone invites you to a random event you wouldn't normally go to. Follow up if someone says they'd love to hang out again. Get yourself up and go to that coworker's party. Just say yes. Not every date or event will be a success (and some may be truly terrible!) but the point is to try, even when you'd rather just stay home.

So I did. I went to a book club for journalists and picnics for writers, and I asked women from work if they'd like to get together after hours. While it took some time, I eventually had a very solid group of friends I could call anytime.

And then I left Los Angeles.

I turned to books to ease my loneliness once more

We got to Philly in December 2020 after a weeklong cross-country road trip. By the time we'd settled in, I was pregnant — not a great time to be out and about meeting new friends given the risks of COVID-19 to pregnant people.

By the fall of 2022, after a couple doses of the vaccine, I was itching to make friends. My husband is wonderful, but I needed someone, anyone, to talk to who hadn't recently watched me give birth or have a nervous breakdown.

I was right back where I'd been in 2010, and once again I turned to Bertsche and her quest for friendship. "Just say yes," I reminded myself.

I got to work: I asked friends to introduce me to their Philly friends, I got on Bumble BFF and Peanut (a "dating" app for moms), I took some dance and exercise classes, but nothing was really working. At one point I asked in a Facebook group if anyone knew of a local book club. There didn't seem to be anything going on, but a few women commented under my post saying they'd love to join if one existed. So I decided to set it up myself.

I messaged the people who'd expressed interest. We chose a book, then we set a time and place to meet. On the day of the meetup, walking over to the library, I was filled with panic thinking no one would show up.

But there they were! Five other neighbors who'd all read the same book and wanted to discuss it. I could've cried. By the end of our meeting, one member had christened us the "Reading Randos" neighborhood book club.

We're still going strong, though we do more gabbing than reading now

Nearly a year on, the Reading Randos are still reading. We're a total of four members now (though newbies are always welcome), and we're all part of that original group.

On my birthday this year, in April, I sent a nervous note to my book-club sisters. "I don't know if this is weird," I wrote, but would they consider getting a celebratory drink with me? They all replied with an enthusiastic yes.

That night, hours into my birthday hang, I learned that we were all new to the area (or the city) when we joined the book club — and all were looking to make friends. Amazingly, we did it.