In my five years in Vancouver, I don't think a week has gone by that I haven't had a conversation with someone about the city's social climate. Although it's news to some Vancouverites that this would even be a topic of discussion, I can certainly confirm that more than a few people bemoan how hard it is to meet people in this city (or, more specifically, how hard it is to start or maintain relationships with people after meeting them).

But there's something missing in the debate about this sad state of affairs, something that I think holds the key to explaining why the city can seem so unfriendly. To repeat an oft-heard refrain, "Nobody in Vancouver is actually from Vancouver." This is an exaggeration, of course, but aside from foreign immigrants (who comprise a big part of all major cities), Vancouver seems to be home to a large number of expatriates from other parts of Canada.

For many of these people, a move to Vancouver represents a practical, logistical move: they'll make more money here than at home, especially if home is a smaller city in Western Canada. But many others, especially those from the richer eastern provinces like Ontario, move to Vancouver for reasons that are more personal than financial. Unfortunately, it is these personal reasons that I think are responsible for creating a climate that is less than conducive for the development of strong, meaningful relationships.

What kinds of personal reasons reasons am I talking about? Well, as a transplant from Toronto, I can speak from some experience. As the final stop on Canada's transcontinental railway, people from "out east" tend to romanticise "Terminal City" as the edge of Canada's wild, free-spirited Western frontier. It is seen as the perfect place to start a "new" life. For these people, Vancouver is Canada's Los Angeles. They come here to find themselves, to create an identity, or to be discovered.

Yet under the guise of this personal growth and development, it seems that a good number of these people are actually running away from personal difficulties that plagued them back home. Unfortunately, personal baggage has a way of following people wherever they go. If they were lost or emotionally troubled back home, they won't be any lost or emotionally troubled in a new city. Trust me, I learned this the hard way myself. The consequence? As a city becomes a magnet for troubled, confused, or depressed people perpetually stuck on finding themselves (some people I know have been trying to find themselves for the last 15 years), it becomes harder and harder to find people who are emotionally available for friendships or other intimate relationships.

Indeed, how can people form healthy, satisfying relationships with those who are so mired by personal problems (or who are unable to cope with them) that they feel the need to pack up and escape to the other end of the continent? How can people make friends with those who have no clear sense of self, who have few goals, or who have little direction? All relationships require the presence of real people, but in Vancouver we seem to have a disproportionate number of empty shells, or as Alexander Varty recently commented in a review of Anne Giardini's The Sad Truth About Happiness, "sad people living sad half-lives filled to varying degrees with aching and longing" (Georgia Straight, Feb. 24, 2005).

I think much of this explains why many people in Vancouver always seems to be too "busy" to spend time with new people they've met. They always seem to have something "better" to do. They cling desperately to their cell phones, hoping someone will finally rescue them from the depression they slipped into when they realised that they'd reached the end of the line—Terminal City—and that things still hadn't changed for them.

I think this might also explain the observation that local radio host, Val Cole, offered in an article about Vancouver's dismal dating scene: "We're all too picky ... There's this superficiality. People seem to like the newness of dating, but then grow tired quickly and move on" ("Vancouver full of date 'skimmers'", Vancouver Sun, Feb. 14, 2005). Of course people in Vancouver grow tired and quickly move on: they brush aside any person who can't take the place of the void inside themselves. But they don't realise two important things. First, nobody else can fill this void for them. Second, even if someone could fill such a void, why would such a person want to be with someone who had little to contribute to a relationship in the first place?

Now that I've offered my diatribe on the dynamics of unfriendliness in Vancouver, the logical question is this: why on earth do I stay here? Well, because I think there's a lot of hope in this city. The same kind of eternal, Lotus Land atmosphere that gives legions of troubled people temporary respite from their demons is the same environment that gives us room to grow—but only if we use it constructively. We're a young city, which means we have a lot of energy and potential to help one another. Vancouver is full of caring people and promising resources that can help us figure out who we are and find our way in the world. The trick is getting out of our comfort zone and garnering whatever courage we have to face our lives and do the hard work that's needed to be successful and happy. And we've got a better chance of doing that in a city where others will share our troubles than in a place where people have no patience for those who're struggling.