No New Friends (But Also, Call Me, Maybe?)

The modern paradox of relationships and the Good Life.

Have we gotten so smart we’re now dumb? As a society, I mean. Lately I’ve wondered. And no this isn’t about the American Political Gladiatorial Games or the economy or whatever. This is about what we say we want and how we then act in a way that contradicts achieving that desire.

For example, you want to be happy, right? Everyone wants that, yes? Well, what do you think would make you happier right now—an increase of $150,000 in annual salary or a super close friend, someone you can completely be yourself around, who you can rely on, who you know would be a shoulder to cry on?

Here’s another conundrum for you: if you had to choose between starting a family, marrying a partner you love, beautiful children, the whole nine yards vs. having a core friend group, friends who you dine with, vacation with, party with, who have your back no matter what, which would you pick? And then ask yourself which would bring you a greater deal of life satisfaction?

One more.

We all know smoking cigarettes is bad for your health, right? Like, imagine smoking 15 cigarettes a day—what that’d do to your body, having trouble breathing, that constant craving of nicotine. Now imagine having no one in the world who you could call a close friend, no one you could text or call or even share memes with. Which scenario is worse for your health?

Well, one study showed that if you gained one close friend this year it would give you the same boost in happiness as receiving $150,000 more income. In a survey, Americans say 60% of their life satisfaction comes from having close friends, while only about 20% stems from being married or raising kids (hold that thought). And not having any close friends is as bad for your health as smoking 15 cigarettes per day—per day!

And yet did you know we’re in a friendship recession? That 12 percent of American report having no friends, up from under 3 percent in the 1990s? That means next time you’re walking down the street, count the amount of people who pass you by, and when you reach the 10th person, think to yourself, That guy has no friends.

Not a great feeling, fam!

And it probably will be a guy, by the way. The percentage of men with at least six close friends fell by half since 1990, from 55 percent to 27 percent. It’s even worse for single men. One in five American men who are unmarried and not in a romantic relationship report having no close friends.

And the kids? Do you know about the kids? Gen Z goes to fewer parties and spends way less time in person with friends than previous generations. Since 2010, right around the widespread adoption of smartphones, rates of anxiety, depression, and loneliness have skyrocketed among teens, with one psychologist calling them “the loneliest generation.”

Philosophers in the ancient world did not take friendship so lightly. Aristotle called it a “virtue,” “indispensable as a means,” the most noble of relationships to pursue. He considered friendship the bond that holds the state together and that “the highest form of justice seems to have an element of friendly feeling in it.”

(And yet some of y’all still want to act like cancel culture is cool? Nahhhh.)

Back in the B.C., even calling someone a friend was not a label just to be thrown around. A friend, Seneca said, was someone you trust as much as you trust yourself, someone you “welcome with all your heart and soul.” It was important taking your time developing a relationship with someone, he wrote, because once “friendship is settled, you must trust; before friendship is formed, you must pass judgment.” According to Seneca, most people did it backwards, judging most harshly those they’d call friends, while putting too much faith in those who were essentially strangers, like politicians.

If that sounds like quite the investment in someone, it should. Going from general acquaintance to casual friendship with someone usually takes about 50 hours, according to one widely cited study. And to become genuinely good friends with someone, you usually need about 200 hours with them.

But what adult has that kind of time, right? To quote Rob Henderson:

This is the modern paradox of friendship: Despite their importance for our health and happiness, despite the fact that we often want to spend more time with friends, they are often relegated to the bottom of our to-do list. The sociologist Dalton Conley has pointed out that today, college-educated Americans spend more time with their children and at work than their parents did. “So what else have we given up,” Conley asks, “besides sleep? We’ve given up friendship.”

Today is the best time to be alive in human history. We’re living longer, have more technology, more disposable income, more access to resources. We’re literally safer, freer, richer, more literate than ever. There is more economic mobility and geographic mobility than at any point in human history. More rights for minorities, more women in power, more rights for non-heterosexuals than ever.

And yet … we’re not that happy.

And yet … we somehow can’t create a system that allows us to contribute meaningful work to society, start a family, and make time for friends?

This is when I mean when I say we’ve gotten so smart we’re now dumb. Because no one should have to choose between only having one or two of those three in life—especially in the freest and richest country in the world. The undue pressure we place on parents to basically be the sole providers of care, love, financial income, moral education, and so on for children—never mind finding time to nurture their own marriage—is absurd. It’s no wonder why fertility rates are dropping so precipitously. As a piece in The Atlantic put it, “America is a land of incredible opportunity, but it’s not a great place to raise kids.”

At the same time, we’ve abandoned the concept of the village for the city. We’ve abandoned living close to extended family networks for better career opportunities. And now if you want to start a family you have to abandon your friends, too? Kurt Vonnegut once joked that nowadays “when a couple has an argument, they may think it’s about money or power or sex, or how to raise the kids, or whatever. What they’re really saying to each other, though, without realizing it, is this: ‘You are not enough people!’”

Part of what makes friendship so special is that it’s the only relationship we form as complete and voluntary equals. If someone doesn’t want to be your friend, you can’t make them. And for a friendship to function, let alone flourish, both parties have to participate or it won’t work. “Friendship uniquely requires mutual self-knowledge and will,” Andrew Sullivan writes. “It takes two competent, willing people to be friends.”

(By the way, the best marriages, i.e. the healthiest, most enduring, are ones based on deep friendship, where two partners are the best of friends, rather than the most passionate of lovers.)

Aristotle said we tend to have three different kinds of friends. We’re friends with some people for utility and benefit (colleagues, neighbors, etc.). And we’re friends with some people just for the good times (party friends, golf buddies). But the friendships that matter are those based on shared values and virtues. As Massimo Pigliucci writes in Answers for Aristotle:

Aristotle’s opinion was that friends hold a mirror up to each other; through that mirror they can see each other in ways that would not otherwise be accessible to them, and it is this (reciprocal) mirroring that helps them improve themselves as persons. Friends, then, share a similar concept of eudaimonia [Greek for “having a good demon,” often translated as “happiness”] and help each other achieve it. So it is not just that friends are instrumentally good because they enrich our lives, but that they are an integral part of what it means to live the good life, according to Aristotle and other ancient Greek philosophers (like Epicurus).

Good friends make you good. It really is that simple.