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Friends

Friendless? You’re in Growing Company

Shaping what it means to be without friends, and what to do next.

Key points

  • Friendlessness isn’t failure—it can reflect focus, healing, or personal growth.
  • Cultural norms may shape how men and women interpret and report loneliness.
  • Solitude may be a choice, not a flaw—and reframing it can be powerful.
Aleshyn_Andrei/Shutterstock
Source: Aleshyn_Andrei/Shutterstock

If you’ve ever felt the quiet ache of being friendless, you’re not alone. The percentage of people in the U.S. reporting having no close friends has increased from 3% in the 1990s to 12% in 2021. And yet, when we hear that word—friendless—our minds often leap to loneliness, social failure, or emotional lack.

But what if friendlessness doesn’t always mean what we think it does?

A 2025 study published in the Canadian Review of Sociology offers a deeper look. Researchers interviewed 21 people, aged 18 to 75, who identified as having few or no friends.

While some participants described their friendlessness as deeply painful, others, like Mike, a 72-year-old retired police officer, said: “I’m my own best friend…I have a lot of hobbies…I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about [friendlessness].”

What might mediate these responses? As the researchers argue, how we feel about being alone is deeply shaped by the cultural narratives we live inside.

In North America, for example, we prize both independence and connection. We admire the self-made individual, but we also stigmatize solitude. This contradiction is especially evident in how men and women experience friendlessness differently.

  • Men, for instance, may avoid admitting loneliness because it threatens their identity as self-reliant and emotionally invulnerable. One participant in the study said plainly: “Since I’m a man… it doesn’t bother me that much.” And yet, men—especially after divorce—are statistically more likely to lose social ties and become isolated.
  • Women, by contrast, may report loneliness even with large social networks, because they often carry the emotional labor of caregiving or feel culturally devalued as they age. One study participant noted that people often “look down on” friendless women, especially older ones.

What we can take away from this is that friendlessness and how we think of it are deeply social. And changing how we think about it (or how we think others think about it), otherwise known as “reframing,” means we can begin to view friendlessness not as a personal failure or flaw, but as a strength instead. At the very least, this research shows us that friendlessness is something worth understanding on new terms.

How to Reframe Friendlessness

If you find yourself friendless—or quietly carrying shame about having “too few” friends—these reframing strategies may help:

1. Name the Cultural Pressure, Not Just the Feeling. Ask yourself: When reflecting about friendlessness, are negative feelings mine, or borrowed from what society says my life should look like?

We live in a world where “having friends” is often equated with being lovable or successful. But that’s a social script, not a truth. One study participant, Sean, a 32-year-old lawyer, rejected the caricature of the friendless person as “a deranged sociopath,” saying he simply prioritized “other metrics of a good life,” like career and family.

If you’re deeply invested in work, caregiving, or simply your own life and hobbies, ask: What am I choosing instead? That choice might deserve more credit than you’re giving it.

2. Understand How Societal Expectations Shape Your Story. Gender doesn’t only affect how others see us—it shapes how we interpret solitude.

Women, for instance, often reported loneliness even in the presence of others—particularly when burdened by emotional labor, caregiving, or cultural invisibility as they aged.

Ask yourself: How might gender norms be shaping what I allow myself to feel or admit? You might be absorbing expectations you never agreed to.

3. Don’t Mistake Modern Disconnection for Personal Deficit. Our world can make connection hard: unpredictable work schedules, digital burnout, fewer public spaces, and shrinking community structures.

Reframe your experience by asking: What systemic factors are making it hard to connect? The problem isn’t always personal. It can also be structural.

4. Shift the Meaning of Friendlessness From a Stigma to a Season. Maybe you left harmful friendships. Maybe you’re healing. Maybe you’re focused on caregiving or career. Friendlessness may not be permanent, and it may serve a purpose.

Some study participants noted leaving friendships because they were draining or misaligned. One participant said she was “less miserable” friendless than in friendships where she had to perform.

Maybe your friendlessness is a boundary—a pause to recalibrate and grow.

Ask yourself: What is this season teaching me? Friendlessness may be the space where your self-worth can flourish.

5. Resist the Narrative That “More Friends Mean More Worth." Our culture praises the well-networked. But being surrounded doesn’t guarantee depth.

One participant, Sam, said that through his solitude, he learned to “turn it around and make something good out of it.” Friendlessness became not a deficit, but a tool for building inner strength.

Ask yourself: Who am I becoming in the quiet? Do I like how I am shaping my life?

Friendlessness doesn’t always mean loneliness, and reframing it may simply mean you’re defining connection on your own terms.

Facebook image: Rachata Teyparsit/Shutterstock

References

Eramian, L., Mallory, P., & Herbert, M. (2025). Friendlessness and its meanings: Loneliness, autonomy, and the struggle for self-respect. Canadian Review of Sociology, 62(1), 1–28. https://doi.org/10.1111/cars.12484

Survey Center on American Life. (2021). The state of American friendship: Change, challenges, and loss. https://www.americansurveycenter.org/research/the-state-of-american-fri…

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