Chapter Content
Okay, so, uh, this chapter is all about building warm and trusting relationships. And, like, it starts with this story about Carl and his husband, Aaron, who moved from a big city to a small town with their kid during, like, the peak of the pandemic. They were, you know, excited for this new chapter, right? They could both work from home or commute, so it wasn’t a total upheaval. And they were really looking forward to their son making friends. So they started taking these long walks around the neighborhood with the stroller.
But, get this, people started crossing the street when they saw them coming! At first, they were like, "Oh my gosh, are people just not cool with gay people here?" But then they realized, like, maybe everyone was just super freaked out about the virus and avoiding anyone new, you know, literally and figuratively.
Anyway, they were, like, super lonely and confused. They were, frankly, getting a little tired of just hanging out with each other all the time, like any couple might, right? They started feeling pretty empty. They wondered if they’d made a mistake moving in the first place, leaving all their friends and family behind.
Thankfully, they still had some friends from the city who’d moved to the suburbs a few years earlier. So, through those connections, they started building a life in their new town. Carl, who was more outgoing, joined the PTA and some other local boards once the schools reopened. He started feeling more like himself again. And Aaron, you know, with his quiet humor, started making friends with the neighbors and other parents from his son’s preschool. He wasn’t, like, Mr. Popular, but everyone who knew him, loved him.
So, fast forward a few years, and now they're surrounded by people who would totally watch their kid if they needed a date night or take care of their sick dog when they travel. People who definitely don't cross the street when they see them coming, that's for sure.
The point is, it took time for them to develop those meaningful connections, but once they did, everything changed. Even though their families are far away, they feel like they belong, they feel cared for, like they're actually part of the community.
So, then the chapter asks, "What is a friend, anyway?" What makes a relationship, like, genuinely warm and trusting? And in this day and age of so many online connections, why is it so hard for so many of us to make, like, *real* connections? Does having all those Facebook friends and Instagram followers actually decrease the number of *real* people that we actually connect with day to day? The thought is that we’re confusing "friends" with "friendships." You know, the first feels good in the moment, but it’s the second that we actually need to thrive.
C.S. Lewis even argued that friendship is, like, the rarest and most profound of human bonds, even more important than family affection, romantic love, or unconditional love. He wrote that each friend brings out something unique in us, and we need those different perspectives to truly see ourselves.
It turns out that what you have in common with someone matters way less than you think. You know, liking the same things might make it easier to start a conversation, but it's not the best way to predict if you'll form a lasting friendship. And actually, having *too* much in common can make it harder to learn from each other, which isn’t great.
So, a real friendship really depends on reciprocity, both people giving and receiving freely. And, you know, without keeping score. For some people, it’s easier to be there for others than to let them be there for you. It takes effort to share your deepest needs and struggles, but for real intimacy to happen, it’s gotta be a two-way street. As Lewis put it, friendship is born when you realize someone else feels the same way you do, and you thought you were the only one.
Also, for relationships to flourish, there has to be a sense of equality. Obviously, some relationships have built-in power dynamics – parents and kids, bosses and employees, that kinda thing. But even in those situations, we can choose to send the message, "I see you, you belong here, we’re the same," rather than, "I’m in charge."
From that foundation of equality and giving and taking, true friendships rely on empathy, understanding, working together, and compromise, even when there’s conflict. When you’re going through a tough time, a good friend knows you need more than just sympathy or a quick fix. And if they don’t know how to help, they ask. You just feel at home with each other, even when you're actually not at home. So, yeah, quality definitely wins over quantity here.
Then the chapter gives some examples of what, you know, a good friend *versus* a real friendship looks like. Like, a friend might just say, "Ugh, bad day at work? Totally, me too." But a friendship might be like, "Ugh, bad day at work? I’m so sorry, want to grab a drink and talk about it?" Or, you know, "Your son got suspended? My kid got suspended in high school, don’t worry about it." versus "Your son got suspended? That must be so stressful for you and him. Do you want to talk about it?" It’s really about going that extra step to see and support the other person.
There's nothing wrong with fun friends, of course, we all need those, right? And there’s nothing wrong with a quick "me too" sometimes. But we also need friends who offer more, who really see us and support us in the ways that matter most.
So, the takeaway here is to focus on quality, not quantity. Life throws all sorts of curveballs that remind us we can't do it all alone. But with so much time spent on work and daily tasks, meaningful relationships often get pushed down the priority list. We might have close friendships already, or the potential for them, but we don't fully appreciate them until something shifts our perspective. Like when we get older and realize how precious those relationships really are. This shift also happens when we get sick or move away from a place where we’ve built good relationships.
Casual connections have their place, from professional networking to just having a laugh about something online. But the goal can’t just be wanting to feel busy and popular. We have to make time and mental space for the relationships that actually give us, like, real satisfaction in order to thrive.
The chapter then starts talking about belonging and dignity. The author mentions a question that was asked during a talk about flourishing: “Do you think members of the Hell’s Angels are flourishing?”
It’s a provocative question. The Hell’s Angels call themselves a motorcycle "club," but it’s really more of a gang, often involved in illegal activities. So, the question is, can you find thriving through unconventional communities that sometimes involve illegal stuff?
Social connection is really not a given for a lot of people – new moms, anxious teens, isolated older folks, and so many others. Warm, trusting relationships are so important that some people will go to extreme lengths to find connection, even if it means breaking social norms or even the law, just to feel like they belong, like they have something to contribute, that they’re safe, and that they’re not alone.
Gangs are a major problem in many cities, even in wealthy countries, and it can be hard to understand why young people join them. A gang is basically a group of young people who use symbols, have their own way of communicating, and often get involved in illegal stuff. Other than the illegal part, it’s really not that different from a Little League team or a Boy Scout troop, right? As humans, we are wired to crave connection, so it's not surprising how far we’ll go to find it. The main difference is that gangs use violence and intimidation.
We belong to families, neighborhoods, and groups that give us a sense of belonging, safety, and protection. It's hard to flourish if you don’t feel safe. Physical safety is a basic need, but psychological, emotional, and social safety are also super important. Psychological safety lets us feel accepted, emotional safety lets us share our feelings, and social safety is where we can finally contribute.
Throughout human history, our survival depended on finding these different types of safety by being a useful member of a group. Being part of something, whether it's a church choir or a gang, gives us a sense of belonging. It doesn’t have to be an organized group either; a close group of friends can provide the same benefits.
A lot of people get power and money through illegal means, but the desire to thrive is a basic human need. People who lack safe, close relationships are more likely to join a gang, which really shows how deeply we crave connection. Belonging to a community is essential for feeling like you matter.
We all struggle to belong at some point. We often doubt our own worth, which makes it hard to feel equal to others.
This starts early in life. Babies have a need to have an effect on their surroundings. This grows into a desire to develop skills and competence, which then leads to social contributions as adults. Racism, sexism, and other forms of trauma can prevent us from developing that competence.
The author talks about their own difficult childhood marked by abandonment and abuse. They struggled in school and was constantly in detention. But then they were adopted by their grandparents at age twelve, and their life completely changed.
Suddenly, they lived in a safe environment filled with love and support. Almost overnight, they became an honor roll student who was active in the choir, played football, and was even on the homecoming court. They had real friends and finally felt safe and loved.
This experience led them to become a sociologist, someone who believes that changing the environment can change people for the better. Sometimes we thrive where we are, and sometimes we need to be replanted somewhere better. It's important not to assume that someone's struggles are their own fault.
When they got to college as a first-generation student, they still struggled with that sense of equality and belonging.
Their high school hadn’t prepared them for college. Their first year was rough; they almost got put on academic probation and couldn’t write a basic essay. They ended up getting a D- in English. Their professor told them, "I don’t think you belong here," which hit them hard because it reinforced a deep-seated belief from their childhood trauma.
But that trauma also gave them a chip on their shoulder. The professor’s comment sparked a desire to prove him and the world wrong. It became a driving force in their life.
Despite the rough start, they graduated almost magna cum laude and got into a top sociology graduate program. They studied what they wanted more of in their own life: feeling socially integrated, accepting others, making a meaningful contribution, and understanding the social world.
Being a first-generation student can be isolating. You’re grateful for your success, but you feel stuck between two worlds. You can’t really go back to where you came from without feeling like you’ve changed too much, and you don’t fully fit in to the new social circle you’ve moved into.
This feeling of being caught between worlds makes it harder to connect with people. The decline of small towns and the increasing urbanization has contributed to this. The author tells a story about going back to see their grandparents' mobile home after their grandmother died, only to find it gone. Even though it was just a mobile home, it made them feel lost and disconnected.
They’ve spent their entire life trying to forget that, to some people, they were considered "trash." These labels can affect our self-respect and make us feel like we don’t belong anywhere. We can’t let others win by internalizing those messages.
The author also notes the importance of people like their professor who showed them that they mattered. A grad school mentor saw himself in the author, which was life-changing. It made them realize that they could also change students' lives by making them feel equal and fully seen.
Hearing you’re an outsider, especially early in life, can warp how you see yourself. When you believe you’ll never belong, your brain looks for evidence to support it, and it becomes hard to trust that people will accept you. As Brené Brown said, "I don’t think there’s anything lonelier than being with people and feeling alone.” It takes a lot of inner work to challenge that false belief and to build a self-narrative around your worthiness and equality.
The main idea is to listen to your inner dialogue and separate out those old external messages that need to go. Remind yourself that the people who love you and show it with their actions truly mean it. Try to relax and know that they’ll accept you in good times and bad, and you don’t have to be perfect to be lovable. And when you’re struggling, ask for help and offer your help in return.
Anyone with seniority and power can send out messages of equality to those who haven’t always been told they belong, people with less social status, education, or work experience. The sheer luck of where you’re born can greatly impact how easily you form meaningful connections.
The author shares a story about a friend who spent time in Sweden and was struck by the egalitarian culture. Children call their teachers by their first names, and young people greet their parents’ friends casually. It sends the message that everyone is equal. For example, people from different backgrounds and different jobs all eat lunch at the same stylish restaurants. The Swedes seem to have figured out that the expectation of equality is a form of respect that they are unwilling to compromise on.
So, SEE people clearly, even those who are different from you. THINK about what you can do to make someone’s day better, even if their needs seem different from your own. How can you make them feel seen, like you understand them in the moment? And then just DO it. Imagine what you needed from a true friend in your darkest moment and try to offer that.
Mattering is a huge thing. It's a key part of feeling like you contribute to society. You can tell if you matter by answering these simple questions:
Do people depend on you?
Do people listen to what you say?
Do people pay attention to you?
Do you feel like you’re an important part of others’ lives?
Would you be missed if you suddenly disappeared?
Children and older adults often feel like they matter because kids are the center of attention and adults are taking care of everyone, but it gets trickier for young adults and older adults who have retired. You have to find new ways to matter to the world, or you might feel like the part of your life where you mattered is over.
Family and work can be sources of mattering, but they can also make you feel insignificant. If the world doesn’t treat you like you matter, you’re vulnerable to feeling alone and unimportant. This can lead to low self-esteem, a decreased sense of competence, and an inability to engage in self-care.
A lack of mattering can lead to isolation, and that isolation can just compound on itself. You feel like you don’t matter, so you withdraw from activities that would give you a sense of social contribution, which then makes you feel like you matter even less. The more you feel like you matter, the less lonely you feel.
There’s almost no greater pain than feeling like you have nothing left to give, and every time we let someone feel that way, we are failing them. Everyone can be important and useful. We need to stop placing the burden of caring on women and start recognizing that doing for others is at the heart of connection.
Don’t wait for permission to help. When you see someone who needs help, just reach out. See them, and be seen in turn.
The author shares a story about a friend whose mom told her to stop asking if she could help in the kitchen and just start washing the dishes. Just step right up and jump in. Join in, and you’ll always be contributing, and you’ll feel like you’re part of something bigger.
The author also thinks about junior high dances, where everyone waited for someone to ask them to dance, but nobody did because they were afraid of rejection. It's just like the "liking gap," the assumption that people like us less than they actually do. We all want that invitation, so we should actually give the invitation to others ourselves.
The author has a "wall of love" in their office, with pictures of all the people who have been important in their life. He sent a picture of it to an old college professor who had been like a father to him. The professor’s response was incredibly moving, saying that the author had touched something in him that made him a better person.
So, don’t waste the chance to reflect on how others matter in your life and to let them know it. Try writing a gratitude list of the people who’ve enriched your life, and maybe even tell them so. Then write a list of gratitude for yourself, reminding yourself of all the ways you’ve made people feel seen, cared for, and supported. Just don't put it off.
The chapter moves on and it goes into the struggles of a new mother. Denise and her husband moved to a quieter suburb when they found out they were expecting. But after the baby was born, Denise started feeling really drained. She couldn’t see a future where things would get better.
She’d imagined maternity leave would be filled with walks with other new moms, but she was mostly alone with her baby. She hadn’t connected with other new moms in town yet. Her family lived far away, and her friends back in Austin were busy. She wondered if everyone else was having a better time and why she wasn’t content just finding joy in her new family.
She felt disconnected, unsure of herself, and like she didn’t belong anywhere anymore. She talked to her doctor, who said she didn’t have postpartum depression, but she felt enervated and empty.
The author thinks that we’ve missed an opportunity to name what Denise was going through: postpartum languishing. It’s a sense of disappointment and self-judgment. Why aren’t I feeling happy with this new baby? Do I not love my baby enough? What am I doing wrong? We need to do more to support mothers during this vulnerable time.
New mothers often have their core needs for connection and contribution taken away by circumstances, and they suffer for it. Instead of giving up hope for connection, Denise might have found ways to connect with people whose lives were different from hers, like mentoring a young woman at work or connecting with a retired volunteer at the library.
The chapter makes a point of mentioning that it's good to look for someone different. We often restrict our social circle to people who are doing the same things as us, but that limits our learning. The author shares a story about a man who grew up in a white, upper-middle-class neighborhood and went to Harvard Business School. His roommate was a Black nationalist from a rough neighborhood in Cleveland. Despite their differences, they became friends, and the author’s friend even met his future wife through his roommate.
They also share another story of two women with very different backgrounds but became close friends after they discovered they had similar taste in music. Even though they had different viewpoints on almost every issue, they listened to each other and learned to see the world through each other’s eyes.
Having friends from different backgrounds helps us learn more and understand people who are different from us, remove biases, and develop perspectives that are outside our experience. Workplace diversity training can also help people understand and appreciate other people’s points of view.
So, keep your eyes open to people who don’t look the same as you or haven’t lived the same kind of life as you. Befriend that older woman in your pottery class or chat with that young man at the dog park. Just be present, be open, and listen.
The author emphasizes the value of emotional support.
Listening is everything. It can be hard to do, but as we get older we have actually shown to get better at it. Although the quantity of emotional support may decrease as we get older, the quality of emotional support increases.
Often, just asking questions and listening carefully without interrupting or judging is the best thing you can do. You could also hold someone’s hand or give them a hug. Active listening, perspective-taking, patience, and unconditional acceptance are all important skills. This kind of support is at the heart of close, caring connections.
Friendships also have to feel balanced. The more equitable the exchange of support, the better both people feel about the relationship. As we age, this becomes more balanced, especially after 55.
Like a tennis match, we give and we get, back and forth. Emotional support brings comfort, joy, belonging, purpose, contribution, worth, and fairness in our connections. We no longer confuse quantity with quality.
The chapter mentions friendships in a distrusting world.
Trust forms the foundation of our social fabric. It helps us live, work, and play together more peacefully and to form connections more easily.
But in the United States, our sense of fairness and trust seems to be eroding due to the collapse of civil political discourse and the rapid growth of income inequality. As income inequality increases, we become unhappier.
Growing inequality causes fairness and trust to decline, and vice versa.
The author recalls visiting South Africa, where the wealthiest homes had high fences and guard dogs because of the carjackings. The United States isn’t that different. Wealthier people are more likely to live in gated, armed neighborhoods. They are trying to get a sense of protection and safety, and like the gang members, that is really a desperate need for belonging.
We need to rebuild our societies by learning to trust each other again. When we prioritize meaningful social connections, we create the conditions for more people to thrive, not only near the end of our lives, but throughout its entire existence.