On Friends (sorta)
Or, how a curated life can lead to greater satisfaction
This past weekend, I re-engaged with several acquaintances in my neighborhood.
I ran into Art, a fantastic and dedicated runner, at the local farmers market.
He’s gregarious, enthusiastic, and someone I’ve known in the running community for years.
Moments later, I “bumped” into Martin, who makes a mean oat milk cortado and always enjoys seeing my dog Mollie.
Later that day, I saw Jen—the owner of a popular coffee shop who always seems one step ahead of her customers, which is likely why her place thrives.
By now, you might think all the people I know are tied to coffee or running—which isn’t entirely untrue.
But here’s the thing—these are just simple, everyday interactions.
None of these people are close friends.
I haven’t been to their houses or shared a meal with them.
I don’t know their relationships.
I don’t know the challenges they may be facing in life.
But I do know their faces and names.
They know mine.
And, in that small space, we acknowledge the need for kindness, connection and friendship.
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Science Matters
I’m a big fan of friendships.
I maintain a few close ones—well two, if you must ask.
And while I could have more, the time and energy needed to sustain them means I’m naturally limited.
Because these friends live thousands of miles away, it’s important that I still feel connected to my city—even in small interactions.
Social scientists call these interactions “weak social ties.”
For decades, researchers emphasized the behaviors associated with “strong ties.”
Friendships, not acquaintances, were said to matter most for identity and well-being.
Until 1973.
In his landmark paper The Strength of Weak Ties, Mark Granovetter, PhD, showed that weak ties often provide access to opportunities—jobs, knowledge, solutions—that strong ties cannot, because they connect us to different circles.
For those of us interested in resilience and growth, this means more pathways to recover after disruptions.
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Size Matters
Small interactions—chatting with a neighbor about their garden or checking in with a barista—give us quick hits of belonging and recognition.
These micro-moments help to reduce loneliness and regulate mood precisely because they don’t demand heavy emotional labor.
They’re also refreshing, especially compared to complex family or intimate relationships.
They let us try out different versions of ourselves safely—the “work self,” “neighbor self,” or “gym buddy self”—fostering a more flexible, resilient identity.
As more of us relocate frequently, work remotely, or live away from extended family, these weak ties can help us feel connected to our communities.
There is a strong link between our attention to the rectangular objects in our hands—or living rooms—and the inability to communicate with others.
We lack connection to one another not just socially, but civically as well.
Marcus Aurelius, in Meditations, reminded himself of belonging to the larger polis—the community.
He wrote, “What brings no benefit to the hive brings none to the bee.”
Weak ties embody this truth.
They remind us that resilience comes from seeing ourselves as citizens of a whole, not isolated individuals.
We need connection to thrive—not only as people but as a society.
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What Next
So, how can we strengthen weak ties?
Perhaps by being the first to engage.
I know.
It can be embarrassing.
It can be hard.
It can also be rewarding.
My partner realizing she saw the same cashier every week, finally asked his name.
Later she reflected, “He was so astounded. He said it was kind and thoughtful of me to ask because no one really did.”
Imagine that—week after week of seeing the same person, recognizing them, but never asking their name.
And yet, how many of us can easily name the favorite brands of influencers we only follow online?
If we want to be better human persons—humans being—then adding a few more names to the ones we carry in our heads seems like quite a small price for deeper connection to our cities and communities.
Or, we can continue doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.
Social scientists have a name for this behavior too:
Insanity.