How I Accidentally Scared a Guy and Discovered Friendship Apps

June in Kraków. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and I woke up to the kind of morning that made you believe everything was possible. Rise and shine, sunshine! This was it—my new adventure. I was ready to make every second count.

Step one: Get up.

Step two: Breakfast (because an empty stomach equals bad decisions).

Step three: Conquer my first day at work.

I arrived at the office full of enthusiasm, met my team—who, to my relief, were amazing—and even my manager, who turned out to be one of the best I ever had. The day went so smoothly that I was already making plans. Because, of course, networking queen mode activated.

You see, I already knew someone in Kraków from my hometown, and since I didn’t want to spend my first days alone, we arranged to meet up. But surprise! He didn’t come alone—he brought another colleague. More friends? Even better! Look at me, thriving in this new life.

The three of us had a great time, and for a moment, I thought: This is it. I’ve made my first friend in Kraków. Proud moment, right? Wrong.

Because, little did I know, Polish guys apparently have a completely different friendship manual. I thought I was just hanging out with a friend. But to them? Apparently, I was declaring my love.

The next day, my “new friend” was suddenly sick. And then sick again. And then… well, let’s just say I never saw him outside of work again. Did I just scare away my first Kraków friend in less than 24 hours? Yep. Classic me.

 

It took me a few days—and a few new girl friends—to finally understand what went wrong. Turns out, being warm, friendly, and laughing a lot was not the way to approach Polish guys. In their minds, that meant, she’s definitely hitting on me. Oops. Lesson learned.

And this, my friends, was something my taxi driver forgot to tell me. He did tell me to marry a Polish guy… but conveniently left out the part where they might think I’m proposing just by being nice.

 

But lucky for me, I had a backup plan. Meet Leo.

Leo—my ex-boyfriend-turned-best-friend (yes, it’s complicated, let’s move on). He was living in Europe too, and since we stayed close, he couldn’t leave me suffering alone.

Plus, I had a tiny problem—I had no idea how to go out alone in Kraków without getting lost. So my human GPS flew in to save the day.

And did I pick him up from the airport? Of course not. Why? Because I would’ve gotten lost before even reaching him. Priorities.

But the moment I saw him walking towards me, smiling like he always did, I felt something shift. I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

 

That weekend with Leo? It was perfect.

We explored the city like two carefree tourists—walking along the Vistula River, eating pierogi in the cutest little restaurant, getting lost in hidden streets, and finding our way back with no rush, no stress, just good company and stolen moments.

And then, there was that one evening.

The sun was setting, casting this golden glow over the city. We sat by the lake, not talking much, just existing in the same space. The air was warm, but there was a certain chill—not from the temperature, but from the weight of unspoken things between us.

Leo looked at me. Not just at me, but through me.

For a second, I wondered—was he thinking the same thing I was?

I could’ve asked. I could’ve said something. But I didn’t.

Because, deep down, I knew the answer wouldn’t change what had already been decided between us a long time ago.

So, instead, we just sat there, watching the sky turn darker, until he finally said, “You’re going to be just fine here, you know?”

And for the first time since I arrived in Kraków, I actually believed it.

 

But like all good things, the weekend came to an end.

Leo had to leave. I hugged him goodbye at the station, pretending it was just another casual moment, that it wasn’t another goodbye between us.

And then, I was alone again.

 

The real challenge began now.

How do you make friends in a city where friendliness is seen as a mild threat?

My managers, probably sensing my social despair, decided to help. They sent me links to Facebook groups full of expats and locals looking for connections. And then, the real kicker—Bumble BFF.

 

Wait. What?!

Are you telling me people are out here swiping for friendship? Like, “Hey, I think you seem cool, let’s go for coffee and trauma-bond”? I mean, I had heard of dating apps, obviously, but an actual platform for making friends? This was next-level social survival.

And that’s when the existential crisis hit.

Because me? A girl who had the same 5-10 friends since school and never had to actually ‘search’ for people?

Now I had to advertise myself like a lonely puppy? F*** me.

 

I was supposed to be a little introverted. Not painfully shy, but definitely not the type to stand on a metaphorical stage screaming, “HELLO, PLEASE BE MY FRIEND.”

 

Nope. Nope. Nope.

 

A few days passed, and I couldn’t do it anymore—I couldn’t just sit there waiting for someone to magically approach me (because, news flash, that wasn’t happening). So instead of posting “Hey, I need friends” like a desperate friendship Tinder bio, I did the next best thing:

I messaged people who had already posted that they were looking for friends.

Yes, introvert mode off—survival extrovert mode ON.

 

And you know what? It worked.

I met a bunch of girls. Some were new to the city, just like me, while others had been in Kraków for years and still struggled to build a solid friend group. Which, honestly? Made me feel less like a social failure.

We shared advice, survival tips, and the classic “why is making friends as an adult harder than solving a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded” conversations.

 

But here’s the plot twist: most of them disappeared.

Yep, apparently ghosting isn’t just for dating. Out of this whole friendship speed-dating process, I only really clicked with two of them.

And one of them? She stuck around for the long run. We’re still in touch today. So at least that was one win.

 

But one friend? Not enough.

I needed backup.

So, I tried again.

This time, I messaged a guy. His profile picture looked harmless (always a good start). He was American (so at least I’d get to practice my English). And I figured—what’s the worst that could happen?

So with one simple hello, I unknowingly opened the door to a whole new chapter in my Kraków adventure.