Why I Paid Big Bucks To Join A Friendship Group

My life needed shaking up so here's what I did.

By
Published July 10, 2026
Stylized illustration of a group of adults smiling together inside a graphic resembling U.S. currency, highlighting themes of social connection, paid friendship, and companionship among older women
Cut It Out Design Studio

Fun fact: Every day, I receive at least 40 breathless text messages on my WhatsApp from women who don’t know me. Does anyone know a plumber? Or a trustworthy dogsitter? What do you think of this chair, should I buy it? Who wants to meet up next week for a lecture? Shoot, my son got detention! So excited, my daughter won the spelling bee! Happy birthday, Lisa! There are so many accompanying heart emojis that a cardiologist may be alarmed.

My first inclination is to delete. I don’t know any plumbers; the chair looks whatever. I’m also not comfortable chiming in with my own wins. Yet I continue to monitor the chain as part of my daily ritual along with breakfast and flossing. A psychologist would assert that each tap unleashes a hormonal dopamine hit in my brain. The truth is that it just feels wrong to ignore the messages. After all, I paid to receive each one of ’em.

Yup, I recently joined a professional friend group. Its official MO is “A community for women in NYC who crave connection and fun,” but that’s an artful euphemism for “We plunked down money to bond with a curated group of strangers.” As part of my membership to the invite-only Glitter Girls (I’m obscuring the real name for privacy), I can attend outings like book club meetings and wine tastings and shopping excursions — and have access to that always-percolating digital chat. I agree that this all sounds like something for ladies who lunch. And yet suddenly I feel like I’m 13 years old and trying desperately to fit in with the cool kids.

Like most big decisions in my life, this one was made in conjunction with caffeine and carbs. A few weeks before my 50th birthday, I met my Boston-based friend Rebecca at a coffee shop and confided that I was feeling a wee bit apprehensive about the milestone. I believe my exact phrase was “I am freaking out and need to shake up my life!!!!” Without hesitation, she told me I needed to get in on the Glitter Girls. As a journalist, my first reaction was a mix of curiosity and eye-rolling skepticism. But the more Rebecca talked up the perks and its well-connected creator (a pal of a pal), the more I became convinced this was a viable solution to my well-worn social routine of small dinners and shows with former coworkers. Sure, membership was pricey — about $800 per year. I considered it a literal out-of-the-box birthday present to myself. I’m not too old to take a chance!

One completed application and credit card transaction later, I had about 60 new friends.

When you join a professional association, at the bare minimum you have a career in common. The same concept applies for mom groups and running clubs and religious meet-ups. But an all-encompassing female friendship “society” is a bit trickier. I realized this when the texts started popping up. I didn’t know these women, but on the screen, most of them seemed to be outgoing, neurotic-free and totally domesticated Brooklynites who ran hip small businesses and owned real estate. So, basically, the opposite of me.

Then I decided to elevate my Glitter Girls experience and attend an in-person event. In theory, a happy hour of snacks and a private lecture on women’s health seemed low-stress. But heading across town, my nervous system kicked into overdrive. What if nobody liked me? Did I have anything to share with them aside from insider celebrity gossip?

My already-fragile psyche shattered the moment I walked into the elegantly decorated space. These literally well-heeled women greeted each other like they were childhood besties. I was the self-conscious New Girl nervously devouring the grapes from the charcuterie board. Suddenly, I reverted to adolescent introvert mode — like I was at a Bar Mitzvah party circa 1990 and way too overcome with shyness to infiltrate a clique. Squeezing every last drop of adult courage, I joined a circle and introduced myself. My heart sank as two members realized with glee that they went to neighboring private high schools . . . and graduated the year I found my first gray hair. I sat for the lecture deflated and ducked out early to avoid awkward goodbyes.

The gawky girl in me wanted to call my mom in tears and tell her that I was quitting, money be damned. But as grownup, I took a breath and worked it out myself. I rationalized that if this former wallflower could successfully break the ice with a taciturn movie star then I could make headway with the Glitter Girls too. And not only had I changed, so had the people I was trying to befriend. No junior-high mean girls, the members were warm and bubbly. I just wasn’t used to being thrust into such a fish-out-of-water environment. Maybe I put up emotional barriers as an instinct. Maybe I shouldn’t have clutched my phone like an emotional support animal and checked my email so much. Maybe I should have been more myself.

A few weeks later, I pushed myself to go to a different event. At least I wasn’t New Girl anymore. Some women remembered me and even asked me questions outside of my career. Progress! When I overheard two women bemoaning their shoulder pains, I jumped in with some practical advice and received a physician recommendation in the process. She messaged me the doctor’s name and phone number along with a heart emoji.

As I type this, I’m still not quite waving my poms-poms about my newfound sisterhood. But I also have zero regrets. At my age, it’s as good a time as any to expand my circle with people who don’t share my every demographic and personality trait. And if a friend asked me in a coffee shop how to shake things up, I’d offer the same advice. The best-case scenario is that you click with interesting and aspirational women, open yourself up to networking opportunities and receive an array of helpful texts. At worst? You have a good story.

Would any of you pay to join a professional friend group? Let us know in the comments below.

Mara Reinstein is a New York City–based film critic and entertainment journalist who contributes to Us Weekly, Billboard, The Cut, Architectural Digest, HuffPost, The Ringer, Parade and more. She's also an instructor at Gotham Writers Workshop and guest co-host on SiriusXM Volume. Check out her blog at MaraMovies.com.