There’s a black and white image of the photographer and war correspondentLee Millerand her friend Tanja Ramm. The two are having breakfast in bed at Miller’s studio in Paris, casually reading newspapers. Their faces are framed by untamed hair and they’re dressed in cotton shirts, with coffee cups in front of them. The image, captured in 1931, is quiet and intimate. They share a blanket, their arms touch. There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s a scene about love but, above all, it’s about friendship.When was the last time I lay in bed with a friend like that? For most of us, it was probably during school or university, when staying over or crashing at someone’s house was a regular occurrence – sometimes a necessity, but mostly just part of our routines. It kept us close. Staying in a friend’s room or apartment felt like being on an island – safe, cosy and fun. It was about whispering, giggling and sharing secrets. And sometimes it was about nothing at all except being together.As an adult whose usual habitat is a large European city, when I meet friends now, it starts with a text that goes something like: “Hey, how are you? Would love to see you. Maybe we can grab dinner or drinks?”Then the struggle begins to find a date. It’s a messy process, especially in Berlin. Days pass. Sometimes, weeks. Finally, if we are lucky, the day arrives and we meet – at a restaurant or a bar, somewhere public, where we’re expected to behave, sit properly and engage in “polite” chat. We update each other on our projects, gossip a little, sigh, complain about circumstances at home or work and then we part ways.Sometimes, a few hours later, or the next morning, I’ll send or receive a message: “I’d missed you. It was so good to see you. We should do this more often.” An honest message, but an empty one at the same time. Because we won’t do it more often. We’ll continue rushing through our daily lives and responsibilities, fitting each other in where we can.How close can you really be to someone you only see for a couple of hours every now and then? What can you actually share? In these meetups, we present condensed versions of ourselves. So much of who we really are stays in the dark. We talk. And talking is the only way to feel connected and to bond.It was simpler as kids and teenagers. After school, back in Leipzig, I’d ask a friend, “Do you want to come over to play?” or I’d just knock on their door. At university in Berlin, we’d spend all day together on campus or meet after class at one of our homes. Getting together was easy. And it wasn’t just about talking. It wasn’t sitting across from each other, throwing words back and forth. We’d sit on sofas or the bed or on the floor, watch TV, play games, draw, flip through magazines, do sports, or listen to the latest music. We’d try things for the first time – a cigarette, a drug. We’d dream. We’d sometimes be silent together. It was sweet.Do we even know how tojustbe? To sit beside someone in silence, without needing to entertain or update or explain ourselves? I miss that.Friendshipdoesn’t always need a plot.In her diaries, Brigitte Reimann (1933-1973), one of the icons of East German literature, vividly describes idyllic scenes of friends simply hanging out together. When she was living in Neubrandenburg in her late 30s, one friend – the writer Christa Wolf – would visit spontaneously to check in and just be with her. There was also Juergen Schulz, a young journalist at the local radio station who was 10 years her junior. The two of them would stay up all night listening to jazz records and dancing. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the typical toast back then was “auf die Freundschaft”(“to friendship”).But times have changed. As mature, 21st-century adults, nearly everything has to be scheduled in advance. We meet when we’re well composed. If we’re not feeling up to it, we cancel. No one knocks on anyone’s door spontaneously any more. That would be crazy. Insane, even. We no longer play or fool around. We don’t hang out for hours without a plan.Maybe that’s also why some friendships just fade away, and others turn weird. One of the quietest heartbreaks of adulthood is realising that a friend has become indifferent, or no longer wants the best for you. The hardest part is knowing when it’s time to let go – especially when you’ve shared years.No one knocks on anyone’s door spontaneously. That would be crazy.But friendship can’t be based only on memories. It’s also about energy. And in trying to hold on to old friendships, we often forget how fragile new connections can be. They happen, but it’s rare. It’s not often that you meet someone new and think, yes, I want to see you again. I want to spend a whole day doing nothing with you.Mostly, it’s coffee once or twice, maybe an invitation to a birthday gathering if we manage to overcome the polite distance. People’s diaries are already full – with families, work and the handful of old friends they barely manage to keep. There’s just not much room left, not emotionally, not practically. So we stick to the friends we already have, even when the contours of those friendships keep changing.I wonder why I’m thinking about all this now. Perhaps it’s because I don’t have children or any family structures forcing me into a regulated daily life. I could hang out. I could see friends more often. When the American writer and film-maker Nora Ephroncompiled her listof things she would and wouldn’t miss at the end of her life, she named her friends twice in the list of things she would.Ephron was also the person who said: “It’s hard when you don’t like someone a friend marries. First of all, it means you pretty much have to confine your friendship to lunch, and I hate lunch.”I hate lunch too. There’s a clear beginning and a clear end. It’s a set scenario and my least favourite meeting opportunity of all because there is no room for surprises: you eat, then go back to work. I believe this downgrading to lunch happens not only when a friend marries someone you don’t like, but also when a friend has children. Let’s be honest: you lose that friend and mourn them. We’re supposed to be adults and handle what life throws at us with generosity, empathy and understanding. But it’s hard.And even if you like the person your friend marries, you still have to do lunch because otherwise, you’ll never see them again alone. Suddenly, it’s always “dates as couples”, where you have to behave even more properly. And there’s also this: if you’re a woman and your friend is a man, it’s very likely that his girlfriend or wife won’t love you two spending time alone.I’ve always found it difficult to imagine long-term, deep friendships between men and women. There is almost always a moment – spoken or unspoken – when one of you wonders: what if? That doesn’t mean anything will happen. But the question will hang in the air. And that changes the dynamic, no matter how much we pretend it doesn’t.Is that already toxic? We’re so good now at identifying red flags, drawing boundaries, spotting “bad, dangerous vibes”. But are we also too quick to call someone toxic just because they’re going through something we can’t quite deal with?I’ve seen friendships fall apart as a result of this and I know it’s difficult, but there is beauty in loyalty, when someone still shows up – not for a perfect version of you, but for you just as you are. That’s gold. Too often, we confuse support with advice, or think texting back is enough. Real solidarity is quieter. It lives in presence, not performance.OK, I do remember the last time I lounged in bed with a friend – it was two weeks ago. Maybe that was why I started to think about adult friendships again.My close friend of 15 years and I were invited to a literary awards ceremony in Cologne. She lives in Berlin and Rome, which means we don’t see each other a lot. The organisers of the awards had booked hotel rooms for us – mine on the fourth floor, hers on the first. At the end of the night, we said goodbye in the lift, then paused for a second. “Shall I come and sleep in your room?” I asked. “Yes please,” she replied immediately.I went to my room, put on my pyjamas and waddled through the corridors to her room. We brushed our teeth, made funny faces in the mirror and chatted in bed until our eyes closed. The next morning, we woke up smiling. We had both slept blissfully. I felt safe with her. The room was our island. We stayed in bed talking under the thick, white sheets until I almost missed my train to Berlin.In the afternoon, I received a text from her: “It was so cosy in bed this morning. This is how life should be.” Yes. Exactly that. Not lunch.Carolin Würfel is a writer, screenwriter and journalist who lives in Berlin and Istanbul. She is the author of Three Women Dreamed of Socialism and a regular contributor to Die Zeit
I fear I’m doing friendship wrong: why do we lose the art of just hanging out? | Carolin Würfel
TruthLens AI Suggested Headline:
"Reflecting on the Evolution of Adult Friendships and the Loss of Intimacy"
The Guardian
7.4
TruthLens AI Summary
In her reflective piece, Carolin Würfel explores the evolving nature of friendship in adulthood, contrasting it with the simplicity and intimacy of friendships during childhood and adolescence. She begins by reminiscing about a nostalgic black-and-white photograph of Lee Miller and her friend enjoying a quiet breakfast in bed, a scene that epitomizes the effortless companionship of youth. As adults, however, Würfel highlights how friendships have become transactional and scheduled, often limited to brief meetups in public spaces like restaurants or bars. The casual hangouts of the past, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and unstructured time spent together, have been replaced by polite conversations that lack depth and connection. This shift raises questions about the authenticity of adult friendships, as individuals present only condensed versions of themselves during these fleeting encounters, leaving much of their true selves in the shadows.
Würfel delves deeper into the implications of this change, noting that the pressures of modern life often lead to the fading of friendships, as commitments to family and work take precedence. She reflects on the rarity of spontaneous visits and the loss of carefree moments spent together, which were once the foundation of deep connections. The piece touches on the bittersweet realization that many friendships may dwindle as priorities shift, and the challenge of maintaining meaningful connections becomes more pronounced. Despite the complexities of adult relationships, Würfel underscores the importance of presence and loyalty, advocating for a return to the essence of friendship that values simply being together without the need for structured plans. Ultimately, she concludes with a personal anecdote about a recent cozy night spent with a long-time friend, highlighting that such moments are essential for nurturing true companionship, far removed from the constraints of adult life.
TruthLens AI Analysis
The article reflects on the evolving nature of friendships in modern society, contrasting past experiences of intimacy and casual interactions with the current challenges of maintaining connections. It highlights a nostalgic longing for simpler times when friendships were characterized by spontaneity and comfort, as exemplified by the black and white photograph of Lee Miller and her friend. The author expresses concern over the loss of these meaningful interactions and the shift toward more structured, less intimate meetings.
Nostalgia for Genuine Connections
The article opens with a vivid description of a photograph that encapsulates a moment of true friendship. This moment serves as a poignant reminder of the past, where friendships flourished in informal settings. The author contrasts this with contemporary social interactions that often feel rushed and transactional. The sentiment echoes a broader societal concern about the quality of relationships in an increasingly busy world.
Changing Nature of Adult Friendships
In adulthood, socializing often revolves around planned events, such as dinners or drinks, rather than spontaneous hangouts. This structured approach to meeting friends reflects broader social patterns influenced by work commitments and urban living. The author’s experience in Berlin illustrates how geographical and societal factors contribute to the challenges of maintaining close friendships.
Illusion of Connection
The author captures the paradox of modern friendships: while people express a desire to connect, actual interactions tend to be infrequent and lack depth. The honest yet empty nature of post-meeting messages reveals a disconnect between intentions and actions. This contradiction raises questions about the authenticity of modern relationships and the societal pressures that contribute to this dynamic.
Implications for Society
The reflections in the article may resonate with many individuals who feel similarly overwhelmed by the pace of life, potentially leading to a collective reassessment of how friendships are prioritized. This could foster a cultural shift towards valuing deeper, more meaningful connections over superficial interactions, impacting social behaviors and community engagement.
Target Audience
The article likely appeals to urban dwellers and individuals navigating the complexities of adult relationships. It addresses a demographic that values friendship but struggles to maintain it amidst life's demands. The themes of nostalgia and longing for deeper connections may resonate particularly with millennials and Gen Z, who often reflect on the impact of technology and societal changes on interpersonal relationships.
Market and Economic Considerations
While the article does not directly address market implications, the discussion of social interactions and community ties can influence consumer behavior. As people seek to cultivate deeper relationships, there may be increased demand for venues and services that facilitate genuine connections, such as casual dining experiences or community events.
Global Context and Current Relevance
The themes of friendship and connection are universally relevant, particularly in the context of post-pandemic adjustments where many are reevaluating their social lives. The article taps into this ongoing conversation about human connection in an increasingly digital world, making it timely and significant. The article presents a relatable and insightful perspective on the changing dynamics of friendship, encouraging readers to reflect on their own social lives. Its authenticity and emotional resonance contribute to its reliability as a source of reflection on contemporary relationships.