Staff Writer Emma Cooper deliberates the challenges that face friendships as our lives become more influenced by work and consumerist behaviours, and addresses the growing pains that come with the internet’s halfway solutions to maintaining them.
We often reserve routine for that which bores us: a study schedule, a meal plan, an exercise regime. We rarely take the time to consider that our calendars could be the very thing which saves the dwindling lights of our failing friendships.
Friendships thrive with routine. They bloomed in our younger years: sitting beside each other in the school cafeteria, then grew with smiles shared across seminars, and with the collective exhaustion of working alongside each other five days a week.
Yet the inevitable fact is that this camaraderie cannot last forever. School friends turn to university friends, which turn to work friends. These routine-based relationships can be lost with any change of direction, and the friendships of the past get left behind.
They turn into faded flames which are only ignited for short ‘catch up’ periods. It seems as if all our problems can be solved with a three-hour coffee date. We fall into a trap of dumping months of half-baked updates on someone who’s hardly in our orbit anymore. You still feel as if you’re ‘friends’, but what’s beneath is often entirely hollow. They’re no longer within your life, but rather an external appendage who you tell stories to.
What happens when we only have these burnt-out sparks left? How do we avoid feeling lonely when real life doesn’t meet the rigid structure of the world we grew up in?
Committing yourself to community
What you can build instead can be described as a ‘village’. Built on small moments, frequent proximity, and shared routines. These villages mimic the consistency and repetition of the institutions which originally bought us close to many of our friends. As well as the repetitive structure of our comfort sitcoms and shows. Actively shifting yourself from the narrator of your life to characters within your own story.
This kind of consistency brings simultaneous comfort and envy when we see it on screen, third spaces are a huge part of our beloved shows – whether it’s Luke’s Diner or Central Perk – these characters seem to have a routine which tethers them together despite their busy lives.
Although it may seem difficult, this structure can be applied to our own lives. These routines can be as infrequent as a seasonal dinner, or as consistent as a Sunday walk. The point is that: they’re in place. They don’t leave you wondering when you’ll see each other again or having to deliver months of information in an endless catch up, kicking yourself when you forget to tell them a key piece of information.
These routines don’t have to be anything special; the best kind of friendships often emerge when you replace long overdue catch ups with creating space to experience life together. This could be a food shop, a workout, or running errands together. We must avoid substituting the intimacy of existing alongside each other with mere accounting. A ‘catch up’ can quickly become a tick in the box which seems to prove you’re still within each other’s orbit.
The problem with ‘consuming’ company
This can of course, be easier said than done. You have to throw yourself into the change, and the fear of being rejected by your busy friends can certainly be a deterrent. This notion rings true with the words of a viral phrase which stirred up conversations across the internet that “inconvenience is the cost of community”.
For years, we have been fed a mantra of self-care and self-preservation, with social media advising us to simply cut off the loose ends that don’t satiate our needs. Through this we avoid the conflict, friction, and difficulty that are inevitably wrapped up in the package of friendship. This motto of “protecting your peace” is wielded not as a shield, but as a weapon. In the process of fending off any potential hurt and discomfort, we often end up entirely alone and guarded without even noticing.
TikTok may have you believing that you’re entirely within your rights to build boundaries so tall you’re not entirely sure what exists on the other side. Yet, it seems that everyone wants to build a ‘village’, but no one wants to be called upon as a villager. Recent studies have shed light on what is described as a loneliness epidemic, with 73% of participants suggesting technology could be a contributing factor. Perhaps this is because of the accessibility we’ve become accustomed to – with an entire world of shops, shows, and films at our fingertips, why would we venture outside of our comfort zone?
Chasing trends and consuming friends
The increase in e-commerce spending since the Covid pandemic has curated an entire online society which revolves around consumerism. The youngest generation, who have grown up in what has become a dark and exploitative corner of the internet are fed a recipe for perfection and beauty, comprised of spending hundreds on skincare products.
This has even led to brands catching on and creating face masks for four year olds, described by dermatologists as “dystopian”. This seems evident of the way in which relationships have changed, as the lockdown period meant that many of these children experienced their primary socialisation via Zoom calls, YouTube videos, and online culture, instead of authentic real-life interactions.
Digital mediums, and the materialistic attitudes which they encourage, have shaped the formative years of Generation Alpha and may be changing the face of socialising forever. Yet, the obsession with keeping up with the latest water bottle fad or buying the trendiest culturally appropriated snack doesn’t just impact those younger than us. This faddish attitude spans all generations, and has even snuck its way into how we view our relationships.
For example, the misapplication of therapy language which social media users pride themselves on is often rooted in a commodified view of intimacy. Absorbing the high standards that come along with maintaining “peace” often results in an echo-chamber of our own loneliness. The notions of ‘cutting off’ those who don’t meet the rigid expectations we set, mirrors the way in which we’re able to easily discard of the products we don’t desire anymore.
Perhaps the shifts between school, to university, to work friends don’t phase us so much anymore. If we see a newer, flashier relationship in the future, we’re able to trade in our old ones.
The cycle of ‘upgrading’
This attitude undoubtedly impacts romantic relationships, with online dating providing the same illusion of choice as online shopping. Yet, this issue stretches far beyond the act of swiping left or right. We have been taught how to market ourselves, curating an online niche which highlights the most desirable aspects of our personality.
This replaces authenticity, the obsession with aesthetics and defining yourself as a specific ‘type’ of person (a ‘clean’ girl, a ‘downtown’ girl, a ‘nerdy’ guy) creates a false illusion of online community. Although these identities are easy to maintain within your feed, real life isn’t so simple, and carrying over this marketisation of your identity leads to building a facade.
While you may be allowing yourself to be the most eye-catching product in a sea of competitors, you’re also allowing the commodification of yourself: you train yourself to become a likeable product, rather than a valued person.
Since we’ve been conditioned to treat new relationships as consumables, there seems to always be room to upgrade. This is no surprise, considering that the heavy marketing of ‘new’ experiences is blasted in our faces and replayed in our heads year-round. During New Year, it’s the encouragement to rebrand yourself and begin again, as Summer approaches we’re told to curate a carefree environment of ‘side questing’ and sharing drinks, in September we’re sold academia paired with a new laptop.
With each change comes new clothes, a new iPhone — why wouldn’t the same apply to new friends? Why stay in one social circle, when you could simply trade up your existing relationships?
We have become convinced that by booking a simple ‘catch up’ with these old friends, we can subside our guilt and maintain the illusion of community. When in reality, it’s far simpler to find a new friend who exists in the same place as you. As the viral quote suggests, the commitment to building a village requires “inconvenience”, sacrificing our nights alone and going from a long day at work straight into a long evening at a bar. I suppose we must weigh up what it is that we value the most, the strength of our relationships, or the serenity of time spent alone.
Embrace the uncertainties
We may be exposing ourselves to the risk of pain, yet, despite what the therapy speak of TikTok would lead us to believe, these ‘boundaries’ may cause more pain than the sacrifices of friendship. Becoming an active member of your community can come in many different ways, whether that’s joining a society, volunteering, or reconnecting with nature and giving back. Committing to a regular routine may subside the urge to reshape yourself with every season.
Although, perhaps the simplest step would be reaching out to those friends lost over the years, and considering why they really ended. Start to unlearn the language of definitives such as ‘cutting off’ and ‘trading up’, and allow the uncertainty of a second chance.
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