Does Having More Friends Mean You're More Loved or Lost?

 

-          By  Aigerim Alpysbekova, MPH

I’ve noticed something about friendship: some people have dozens of friends who swap favors, share meals, and show up for events but the bond rarely goes deep. Then there are those of us who crave intimacy. We’d rather have two or three people we can talk to about life’s meaning, our fears, and the beauty of being human. Practical “favor exchange” isn’t our strength not because we’re unwilling, but because we’re absorbed in the connection itself.

Sometimes I wonder: is that a flaw or just a different way of being? The modern world rewards networkers—those who maintain countless loose ties because that’s where opportunities flow. But if we slowed down and built fewer, deeper relationships, would we lose or gain something richer?

For me, friendship isn’t about keeping score. I don’t care if someone will help me move a couch. What matters are the moments we share late-night talks about philosophy, laughing at strange metaphors, comparing Socrates to Buddha, or joking about how humans resemble insects. These moments don’t pay bills, but they feed the soul.

So, I ask: Is friendship about doing for each other or being with each other? Maybe both. But I know which one makes me feel alive.

Looking back, I see different kinds of friends. In college, I was socially surrounded by people, ready for adventure. One group for volleyball and parties; another for hours of existential conversations. I remember a New Year’s Eve trip with two high school friends. We took a train to another city, only to realize we’d lost all our money. Broke and stranded, we celebrated with strangers at the station sharing food, dancing to loudspeaker music, laughing until dawn. That’s one kind of friendship: joy in the moment.

Then there’s the friend I walked with in medical school. Twenty minutes between campuses turned into deep dives into philosophy Diogenes living in a jar, parents as instruments of life’s purpose. We debated until we disagreed and stopped talking for years only to reconnect later and pick up where we left off.

Sometimes I wonder: If I only have a few friends, am I failing socially? We live in a world that glorifies popularity as if more friends mean you’re doing life right. But what if the opposite is true? What if some people aren’t more connected just more distracted? Constant socializing can be a shield against solitude, against facing yourself. It’s easier to fill weekends with brunches and parties than to sit in silence and meet your own thoughts.

Because when you’re not afraid of solitude, you’re not afraid of truth. You don’t need dozens of shallow ties to feel whole. A few real ones are enough—the kind where you don’t have to perform or pretend.

Maybe we need to stop holding on to people just because of history. You’re not who you were in high school—and neither are they. Some friendships fit who you used to be, not who you are now. That’s not betrayal. That’s life.

Friendship isn’t about keeping a roster. It’s about keeping company with those who nourish your deeper self, the ones who make you feel alive, seen, and real. Not everyone will do that. And not everyone you’ve called a friend is meant to stay.

So be honest. Don’t cling to friendships just for the sake of having them. Pretending is its own kind of loneliness. Let go of what drains you. Make space for what fills you—with meaning.

Because in the end, friendship isn’t about who shows up with a truck when you move. It’s about who asks how your heart is—and truly wants to know. Who sits with you not just when life falls apart, but when you do. Who brings not just presence, but attention—not out of duty, but because being with you feels real.

That’s the kind of friendship that doesn’t just fill a room it feeds your soul.

And that’s the kind worth keeping.