more on "low-stakes friendships"

+ the strength of weak ties, overanalyzing relationships, therapy-speak, and perpetual availability

I recently shared this Dazed Digital article titled "In Defense of Low-stakes Friendships" in my monthly curation. The response was overwhelming—so many comments and DMs saying it resonated. It got me thinking about why we've become so fixated on intense, all-consuming friendships, and why casual connections have fallen out of favor. There's this pervasive belief now that every friendship must be perfectly elevating, making you feel seen, heard, and respected in every possible way. If it doesn’t meet this high standard, it's often deemed not worth pursuing.

In an era where authenticity is currency and vulnerability is virtue, our understanding of friendship has undergone a radical transformation. The cultural zeitgeist, fueled by social media and popular entertainment, has elevated the concept of intense, all-encompassing friendships to near-mythical status. From the unwavering loyalty depicted in sitcoms to the carefully curated squads of celebrities on Instagram, we are inundated with images of friendships that are both aspirational and, for many, unattainable.

This shift in our collective understanding of friendship has not occurred in a vacuum. It is, in many ways, a response to the increasing atomization of society, the erosion of traditional community structures, and the very real epidemic of loneliness that plagues modern life. In this context, the appeal of a tight-knit circle of confidants who function as a chosen family is undeniable.

However, this hyper-focus on intense friendships has cast a shadow over an equally vital, but often overlooked category of social connections: the low-stakes friendship. These are the relationships that operate on the periphery of our social circles - the college classmate we see once a year for coffee, the colleague we share inside jokes with but rarely see outside of work, the friend-of-a-friend we always enjoy at parties. While these connections may lack the depth and intensity of our closest friendships, they play a crucial role in the ecology of our social lives.

The value of these casual connections was highlighted in Mark Granovetter's seminal 1973 paper, "The Strength of Weak Ties." Granovetter argued that these "weak ties" are essential for social mobility and the diffusion of information and ideas. In essence, our low-stakes friendships serve as bridges to different social circles, exposing us to diverse perspectives and opportunities that might not otherwise cross our paths.

Yet, in our current cultural moment, these casual friendships are often viewed with suspicion or dismissed as superficial. The prevailing narrative suggests that real friendship requires constant communication, emotional availability, and a level of commitment that borders on the all-consuming. But when we expect every friendship to meet these lofty standards, we're almost guaranteed to be left disappointed—it's simply unsustainable to demand so much from every connection.

To understand this trend, we need to examine the cultural forces that have shaped it. The rise of social media has created a culture of performative friendship, where the depth of one's connections is often measured by the frequency of interactions and the intensity of shared experiences. Simultaneously, the self-help industry has boomed, popularizing psychological concepts and therapeutic language.

These factors have converged to create a perfect storm of overintellectualization in our personal relationships. We've been conditioned to believe that every interaction must be deep, meaningful, and emotionally productive. But in our quest to optimize our friendships, we may be losing sight of what friendship is fundamentally about: feeling good in each other's company.

The digital revolution has rewritten the rules of friendship maintenance, turning our relationships into always-on, never-ending streams of communication. While the ability to instantly share life's moments and engage in real-time conversations across vast distances seems like a friendship superpower, it's created a paradoxical predicament. We're caught in a web of perpetual availability, where the line between connecting and intruding blurs, and the pressure to be constantly "on" for our friends becomes psychologically taxing. The Read receipt has become a digital anxiety trigger, and delayed responses are often misinterpreted as personal slights. We've entered an era of "friendship FOMO," where we feel compelled to digitally participate in every aspect of our friends' lives lest we miss out on some crucial connection.

And the proliferation of therapy-speak in friendships is, in many ways, a misapplication of valuable tools. Concepts like boundaries and emotional labor have their place in professional therapeutic settings and can be useful in managing difficult relationships. However, when applied indiscriminately to all our social interactions, they can create an atmosphere of constant emotional negotiation that is exhausting and ultimately counterproductive. We now speak of "investing" in friendships, ensuring our relationships are "serving" us, and maintaining "healthy boundaries" as if we're managing a portfolio rather than nurturing human connections. While these concepts can be useful tools, their overuse risks turning friendship into a transactional endeavor. Suddenly, it's not enough to simply enjoy each other's company; every interaction becomes a growth opportunity, a chance to 'level up' our emotional intelligence or expand our perspectives. We're treating our friends like personal development workshops with legs. This constant weighing of costs and benefits in our relationships strips away the spontaneity and simple joy of connection.

But friendship, at its core, should not feel like work. It should not require a mental spreadsheet to track emotional debits and credits. The only metric that should truly matter in friendship is disarmingly simple: do you feel good after spending time with this person?

This is not to say that friendships are always easy or free from conflict. Human connections are inherently messy, imperfect, and often uncomfortable. Even our closest friendships have moments of friction, misunderstanding, and distance. However, the overall balance should tilt decidedly towards positive emotions. Friendship should be a source of joy, comfort, and energy – not a drain on our emotional resources.

The overintellectualization of friendship has also led to an unhealthy fixation on categorizing and labeling our relationships. We've created a hierarchy of friendship, with "best friends" and "ride-or-dies" at the top, and "low-stakes" or "casual" friends dismissed as somehow less valuable. But this rigid categorization fails to capture the fluid, dynamic nature of human connections. More critically, it doesn't allow for the natural ebb and flow of friendships—the seasons that every relationship inevitably experiences.

This inflexible view of friendship is particularly jarring in young adulthood, a time of profound transitions and evolving identities. Take, for instance, the end of college — a period that often feels like an emotional supernova. I remember the weeks leading up to graduation, crying nearly every day at the thought of losing the nitty-gritty, day-to-day intimacy with my college roommates. The prospect of no longer sharing every mundane detail, every minor triumph and setback, felt like an impending tragedy. And in some ways, it was a loss. The impromptu debriefs inevitably decreased. The tapestry of shared daily life — with its inside jokes, synchronized schedules, and unspoken understandings — began to fray at the edges. This shift can feel like a small death, a severing of a connection that once felt as natural and necessary as breathing.

But here's the thing about friendships: they don't die just because they change. The mistake we often make is equating constant contact with depth of connection. We fall into the trap of believing that true friendship requires an uninterrupted stream of communication, a real-time play-by-play of each other's lives. This misconception sets us up for disappointment and can lead us to prematurely mourn relationships that are simply entering a new phase.

Let me be clear. I am not asking you to settle for less or be a "bad friend." I am not asking you to ignore genuine issues when they arise, wanting more from a close friend, or never having serious conversations with the ones you love. I am asking you to recognize that different relationships can serve different purposes in our lives. To allow friendships to be easy, fun, and sometimes even frivolous. To acknowledge that perhaps friendship isn't one-size-fits-all, and that's okay! That gives us permission to maintain connections that may not be deeply emotionally intimate but are nonetheless enriching and worthwhile. A casual coffee date, a sporadic text chain, and yes, even an occasional unanswered message is… okay.

And sometimes, a shared laugh with an acquaintance you see twice a year can be just as good for you as a deep, soul-baring conversation.