Why making friends as an adult is no longer a priority for me

Much like ‘sleep’ and ‘eating protein’, having an active social life has become one of those things that we’re told is integral to our health, happiness and longevity. All the stats back it up: according to research, having good friends means that you’re more likely to live longer, retain better physical health and are less likely to suffer from depression and anxiety. Loneliness, on the other hand—which is distinct from being alone, but still—is apparently as harmful to our bodies as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. That’s, like, nearly a whole pack. Every day!

This isn’t ideal news for me, who, despite having approximately one million acquaintances and plenty of ‘outer circle’ friends, has very few genuinely close friends. I could probably count those who are close to me—as in, those who’ve been to my house, who’ve seen me cry, who know me intimately—on one hand. And the older I get, the more I realise that it’s always been this way, and will probably remain this way into the future. And before you feel bad for me (or maybe you relate?), this is actually how I like it.

When I was younger, I used to push against my natural loner inclinations. I’d go on long weekends away with friends, sharing beds and agreeing to a group itinerary. I’d go to parties, and then join those same people for brunch the next day, even though my social battery had long gone flat. Alcohol often helped: I found socialising easy if I’d been drinking, and closeness easier too. But you shouldn’t have to drink to ‘get through’ an interaction. The whole point of socialising is that it’s supposed to be fun, good for you and happen naturally. Being around loads of people isn’t supposed to be an endurance test.

I also felt as though I should be making new friends as an adult nearly constantly and then doing whatever I could to keep them. I, too, grew up with Sex And The City, Friends and, later, Girls. I had assumed that having a big friendship group was normal and expected. I’d be in constant touch with the group chat, or making sure I had at least three social plans that week, or showing up to someone’s birthday drinks so that I would be well-liked. Obviously, I often enjoyed these plans, and of course, I like meeting new people, but this constant pursuit of friendship for the sake of it was also quite draining. Sometimes, I felt lonelier around others than when I was alone. Not always, but sometimes.