My First Year in Asheville: What I Wish I'd Known

I'm going to be honest - my first few months in Asheville were rough. Not in a dramatic way, just in that quiet "did I make a mistake?" way that creeps in when you're sitting alone in your new apartment on a Tuesday night, not knowing a soul.

I'd moved from Boston via Florida, traded my walkable neighborhood for West Asheville (which is walkable for Asheville, but still), and suddenly found myself in a city where I knew exactly zero people. The mountains were beautiful, sure, but you can only hike alone so many times before the loneliness sets in.

The First Three Months: Beautiful But Lonely

Those first months, I threw myself into exploring. I found every coffee shop in a 10-mile radius (Hi-Fi became my office), hiked every trail I could drive to, and ate at restaurants alone while reading books and trying to look like I was totally fine with it. The city was everything I'd hoped for - walkable neighborhoods, great food, mountain views that made me stop mid-sentence. But I was experiencing it all solo.

The thing nobody tells you about moving to a place like Asheville is that everyone seems to already have their crew. They moved here with partners, or they've been here since college, or they're part of some tight-knit scene you can't quite crack. As someone in their 30s who'd left behind established friendships, starting over felt impossible.

Month Six: The Volleyball Revelation

Then, about six months in, a friend from work mentioned volleyball at Highland Brewing. I almost didn't go. I hadn't played team sports since middle school soccer left me traumatized. But I was desperate enough to try anything.

That first Thursday night, I showed up at Highland not knowing what to expect. The courts were packed, music was playing, people were laughing and drinking beers between games. Someone asked if I wanted to play, threw me onto a team, and suddenly I was diving for balls and high-fiving strangers.

I was terrible. Absolutely terrible. But nobody cared. They just kept inviting me back.

Finding My People

Volleyball became my gateway to Asheville. Every Thursday, then Tuesdays too, then weekend tournaments. The same faces started becoming familiar, then friendly, then friends. Real friends. The kind who text you when you miss a week, who invite you to birthdays, who become your emergency contacts.

Through volleyball, I met people who introduced me to their people. Suddenly I was getting invited to potlucks, hiking groups, random Tuesday night hangouts. The city that felt so closed off started opening up. I found my coffee shop crew at Rowan, my running buddies for early morning RAD loops, my "let's grab a beer" friends.

What I Know Now

Looking back, here's what I wish I could tell myself that first lonely month:

• It takes a full year. Everyone says this, but it's true. It takes four seasons to feel settled, to have routines, to stop feeling like a tourist in your own city.
• You have to put yourself out there. Repeatedly. Embarrassingly. Show up to the same things over and over until people recognize you.
• Find your thing. For me it was volleyball. For you it might be run club, book club, pottery class, whatever. But find something with regularity where you'll see the same people.
• Coffee shops are friend goldmines. Become a regular somewhere. Same seat, same time, same cortado. You'll start recognizing people, then nodding, then talking.
• The gay community here is real but spread out. It's not like a big city with a gayborhood. It's more integrated, which is beautiful but can make it harder to find at first.

Year Two and Beyond

I'm writing this in my fifth year here, from my house in East Asheville, after a morning run where I saw three people I know and stopped to pet four dogs (whose names I also know). My volleyball crew feels like family. I have a favorite bartender at three different spots. I know which coffee shop makes the best cortado (Rowan) and where to take out-of-town visitors (everywhere).

That lonely guy eating alone at Farm Burger feels like a different person. But I'm glad I stuck it out through those hard first months. Because once Asheville decides you're one of theirs, it's home in a way I've never experienced anywhere else.

If You're in Your First Year

If you're reading this from your own lonely apartment, wondering if you made a mistake - give it time. Find your volleyball equivalent. Show up even when you don't feel like it. Say yes to invitations even if you're tired. It gets better. So much better.

And if you need a friend, seriously, reach out. I'll meet you for coffee at Hi-Fi or Rowan. We can talk about how weird it is to start over, how beautiful the mountains are, and I'll probably try to convince you to come play volleyball. Because that's what we do here - we collect people and fold them into our lives.

Welcome to Asheville. The first year is hard, but what comes after is worth it. Trust me on this one.