How to Have Friends in the 21st Century
As much as I’m wishing for that dating app for friends, maybe more technology isn’t the answer.
“Wait…you wanted to talk to someone over text or Facebook BEFORE you talked to them in person?”
“Well…sort of. Ya.” I responded sheepishly, ashamed.
Hearing Matt say it out loud made me realize just how absurd it sounded. We weren’t talking about Tinder, Coffee Meets Bagel, chat rooms, or other internet relationships. We were talking about high school.
I started fumbling through a prescribed excuse list (one that might have worked on anyone other than my boyfriend who could cut straight through the B.S.):
I was shy.
I was no good at small talk.
A wingman was not easy to come by.
Etc, Etc.
“It’s not like I actually went through with it. I would always friend someone and then hope they would start talking to me first.”
As if that was much better.
Matt’s skepticism deepened. The idea that the solution for the nerves of saying hello to a flesh and blood person who sat in your class, in the cafeteria, or lived in the house up the street was to hide behind a digital wall of security in case things went south was not even close to starting out on the right foot. He is (obviously) far braver than I.
I do remember when Facebook profiles weren’t everything. It was a world where my parents had flip phones as big as walkie talkies and only used them for emergencies. My only interactions with my friends were sleep-overs, cul-de-sac gallivanting, and basketball practice.
People didn’t break up over text then, because there was no texting. I didn’t know what my friends were up to when they got home from school, let alone scrolling through a pristine picture of their dinner or pictures of their dog from every angle. (Ok, I know, AOL IM popped up for a moment, as did Club Penguin and Runescape somewhere in there for a few months. There was no way I was going to convince my parents to let me get a MySpace.)
By the time I was in high school, though, the social network was taking the world by storm.
Sophomore year, four or five of my closest friends and I got into a massive tussle about what Halloween movies to watch. One friend wanted to watch The Ring, the others wanting to watch comedies and forego the spooky spirit altogether.
The text conversation between me and our outlier friend was fierce:
Her: If it’s at my house, we are watching the Ring.
Me: Well, no one else wants to watch it.
Her: You guys are lame. And it’s my house.
Me: Well, then I’ll have everyone else at my place, then.
*cue profanity
You would have thought a bomb exploded. A tiny little incident involving which movie to watch turned into name calling and unnecessary drama.
Most would assume we were just teenagers being teenagers. But I also know that this response was expounded by the fact that we weren’t sitting face to face — an irrational argument punctuated by an irrational response because absolved of human connection, there was no demand for rational behavior.
Technology started to affect friendships.
Words sharpened. Pictures lied. We started to know everything about what people were doing and less about how they really were.
We started getting more connected, then less connected, in the exact same sentence.
A Digital Divide
In the same year as the Halloween debacle, Bruce Willis starred in this sci-fi thriller. In the movie, almost every human lived as a recluse in their homes, glued to screens, going about their days through the use of robotic stand-ins called “surrogates”.
Because everyone designed their animatronic avatar, people in Willis’ world got to be exactly what they wanted to be: tall or short, male or female, beautiful or intimidating or perfect. There was no more murder, no more bodily injury, because while the surrogates populated the streets, everyone hid safely inside.
Despite the fact that it was a long time ago, a movie I have only seen once, and relatively mediocre, there was this scene at the end of the film that has come back to me a few times. It was just that memorable.
I hate to spoil it for you, but all the robots crash. Whole waves of people just drop, like a sea of bodies to the ground. And with their screens black, humans were re-awakened — they stepped out into hallways and balconies and they saw the sun with their own eyes for the first time in years.
Imagine if our screens took a nose dive today. Disregarding the obvious dissolving of our society, what would our relationships look like?
I’m not a researcher or a social scientist, and we all aren’t in a focus group, but we live for our screens—and our screens—have shaped us: how we talk to each other, relate to each other, find and lose relationships, and make friends.
And it’s looking bleak for us. I know people who are single, I know people who are married. I know young generations and older generations. And it just doesn’t really matter about background or age or gender…everybody is feeling the weight of a digital divide.
It’s harder than it has ever been to talk to other people. Dates are outright painful, and relating to friends on a deeper level is like a game of pin the tail on the donkey. We know about peoples lives without even having to ask just by scrolling through a newsfeed.
It all leads to one place: a superficial reality. It’s filled with assumptions. It’s brimming over with carefully crafted. And it’s devoid of what we are most hungry for.
Too Hot, Too Cold, Just Right
Goldilocks had a run in with three different options. As the classic children’s story follows, a lost little German girl trespasses into the house of three bears and tries to find a snack.
She tries Pappa Bear’s, then Momma Bear’s, then Baby Bear’s porridge, finding one bowl to be too hot, the third to be too cold, and the last one to be just right.
Friendships and human connection these days feel just like that search. The perplexity of it has lead to a silent disaster in the homes and lives of people all over the world.
The New York Times calls it a “health epidemic”. Fortune calls it a “public health threat”. And Forbes found this startling fact: the number of Americans with no close friends has tripled since 1985.
Most of us—if not all of us—are lonely.
It’s hard to find an avenue to meet people who have shared interests, goals, or hobbies. It’s really hard to find the time and place to invest in a friendship once you break the ice. It’s downright arduous facing seasons of life, times of change, disagreements, distance, and falling in and out with other people.
After a move, many of the relationships I built over several years are now states and time zones away. People I spent most of my time with fell off the edge of my map. And if I’m honest, starting over is an often exhausting thought.
We face the cold porridge of loneliness on one hand, then bowls of steaming struggle on the other: friends too close, too far, too few, too many, too shallow, too much.
How do we get to “just right"?
For the Love of Friends
The world isn’t going to slow down on us. Virtual reality is an actual reality, and so is life. The human disconnect can be a stumbling block to us just like life’s bustle and stress, just like distance and time constraints. But those things aren’t going to change.
But just because the formidable conditions are still formidable, that doesn’t mean we can’t get creative in our solutions. Loneliness does not have to be a pandemic.
I don’t have all the answers of what friendship looks like in facing new challenges of loneliness, false intimacy, or digital divides. I don’t have the formula for instant friends or the fix for shallow relationships. I just don’t think there is a cure or one-stop solution here.
But what I do have is advice from someone who knows just how hard this process can be.
Every day, I am navigating these waters. I am trying to be a good friend and still be involved with people who live far away or I have grown away from. I am trying to make the time to meet new people. I am trying not to be awkward or terrified (not always very well), resisting the urge to just camp out in my apartment.
This is what I’m learning:
If you want to meet someone new, try something new.
New friends simply do not come to you. New relationships don’t happen when you stick to your routine or only stay where you are comfortable. Seriously — try out a new class, volunteer, pick up a new hobby. Go to a meet-up. Walk around the city a while.
Let things adjust accordingly.
We want what is good to stay good. I wish I was as tight with my friends from college as I used to be, but I don’t live with them or see them every day. Just because I don’t feel as close to them doesn’t mean the relationship is broken. Let friendships adjust as you grow and change. Still seek those people out, but give them room to change, too.
Don’t judge a friend by a first meeting.
There are a lot of people I never would have thought I could get along with, yet are surprising me every day with how cool they are. Give people a second chance, and a third, and a fourth.
No need for a surrogate.
There was a reason the Willis movie was dystopian — having a fake stand-in or representation of you online is only going to lead to a weird conversation later. Be yourself. Use technology to connect, not to disconnect.
And ultimately? Don’t throw in the towel. All of it —bring alone, then meeting people, then getting to know people, then becoming good friends and facing life together — is awkward and scary and more critical than you know. And even though it is hard now, it gets better.
Four months ago, I knew two people in my city. Today, I know over twenty. It’s been really hard and really weird, sure. But there have been a few moments I realized how happy I am to be exactly where I am, right now, with these people.
I hope you can find a few of those moments, too.
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