How comfortable is your bed

We are entertaining ourselves to death. We have gotten too comfortable with saying no, and our social lives are suffering because of it. And then we have the gall to complain about missing our friends, never having enough time to do the things we actually want to do, prioritizing a “quiet” and “slow” nighttime routine instead of getting out of the house and actually living our lives. We idolize our elderly habits on the weekends when we’re only in our 20s; we have chosen isolation over our friendships. And don’t get me wrong; I will be the first to advocate for alone time. My favorite place is my bedroom, and I am in bed by 8 PM on most week nights. But there is a huge part of me wondering if I am doing this all wrong. I can’t help but feel guilty that I am letting life pass me by.

Here’s the harsh truth: I am. We have lost the comfort of community (the use of the term “we” is a gross generalization, that, for the sake of the piece, I will continue implementing). We are losing the art of doing things for others, solely for their happiness, even when it is at our own expense. News flash: that is how friendships work. It will not always satisfy you, and you will have to make sacrifices. The cost of community is your inconvenience. Sometimes it is at the detriment of your early bedtime, other times just for the sake of your annoyance. There is an emerging trend on social media where we cower behind “self-care” as an excuse for selfishness. Therapy talk has become weaponized, taking boundary-setting and protecting our peace to unhealthy extremes. Is it really worth keeping your own peace if it comes at the cost of the people you love? Of course, this isn’t a black and white conversation. There is nuance to almost everything. It is fine to decline an invite here or there because you really are struggling through a mentally hard period, but when the consistent response to any social outing is no, are these “healthy” boundaries you’re creating really healthy when they are built on the neglect of your friends? 

It’s no secret that the people we are today have become extremely self-centered. The Internet has allowed us to expose almost any part of ourselves, and because of this, we have opened the door to a room of mirrors. We think about ourselves too much, and not to fault ourselves because with social media and so much of our social currency dependent on how we are perceived, it’s hard not to think about ourselves at such an overwhelming capacity. But in turn, as our consciousness is suffused with thoughts of our bodies, our own sense of humor, our abilities to do this and that, we do not have the time to think of others, leaving the ones we claim to love in the dust. 

We have begun to categorize our friends, shoving them into boxes, boiling them down just to the friendship type they fall under. We disregard their interests, facets of their personality, the depths of their persona that make them who they are, and view them only as the type of friend they are. Low-effort friendships involve two people who rarely ever talk, see each other once in a blue moon, and don’t feel the need to be kept in the loop on almost anything. This was the type of friendship I sought out when I was going through self-isolation periods, but now I crave the opposite. I want friendships that are sentimental, a friend who will gossip and cry and mutually vent with me, wholesome in every way. I yearn for friendships where knowing them is the same as knowing me, one where we can sit in silence and just enjoy the company of the other person’s presence. 

I am aware that not all friendships are the same. Low-effort friendships can be valuable and necessary. Some friendships are only meant to be shallow, and some people are only meant to be acquaintances. And these friendships are just as valid as any deep, platonic camaraderie. But I don’t believe life is as fulfilling without the latter category of friendships, and to truly cultivate those complex, meaningful friendships, you have to be willing to put in the effort. You can not foster this type of friendship if you are inconsistent, if you really believe that you don’t “owe anyone anything”. At the end of the day, you do. You do owe it to your friends to be there for them. You owe it to yourself to overcome discomfort, to overcome annoyance, to be a good friend. 

It’s interesting how there is an unspoken (or spoken) agreement that with a healthy, romantic relationship, there needs to be a similar degree of emotional intelligence and effort required from both parties. Be understanding, be selfless, and realize that it is not always a 50/50 relationship. But for some reason, we don’t hold platonic relationships to the same standard, even though platonic relationships are quite literally one of the most static, foundational parts of our human existence. There is irony in being chronically online but not having the emotional bandwidth to respond to a text, but only for a specific person. 

I am guilty of this, as well. I do not get off scot-free from any of the accusations I have made previously. But I acknowledge that my lack of presence in the virtual space can be at the expense of a friendship I value. I understand that sometimes, my friends deserve better friends. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but at the same time, when I recognize these faults of mine, I try to work harder to become a better friend. If you realize that you are putting community on the back burner for your so-called alone time, and you are losing friends in the process, but you can’t bring yourself to even care about this dying relationship, how much did that friendship really mean to you in the first place?

The price for community is your inconvenience. The cost of your inconsistency and your lack of effort is the birthday party invite that you’ve always received, suddenly disappearing one year. It is the Instagram story of all your friends out to dinner while you’re in bed in your face mask, scrolling on TikTok for the third consecutive hour of the day. It’s the wedding invite you’ll never get in the mail, the shoulder you’ll never get to comfort, and the laughs you will never experience again. You make your decision.