My Social Calendar Is Full of Nothing, and I Like It That Way

I've never been what you'd call a social person, but lately my interest in cultivating new friendships is about equal to my passion for competitive lawn bowling — threadbare to nonexistent.

I could probably point the finger at perimenopause if I wanted to, but I'm starting to wonder if it's actually just a me problem.

Because I've also completely lost the impulse to make excuses or otherwise apologize for my hermitude to anyone over the years. I'm honestly not even interested in online friendships anymore. (Seriously, I recently responded to some random person's out-of-left-field suggestion that "we should be friends" with "I don't want to be your friend.")

I'm also becoming way less inclined to share every single discovery, experience, or personal development with other people, in general. And this is apparently pretty normal for most adults as they get older.

Our Social Priorities Aren't Necessarily Set in Stone

Psychologist Laura Carstensen's socioemotional selectivity theory describes the way our perception of remaining time ultimately influences what we value as people, especially as we age.

When the future seems vast and limitless, people are a lot more inclined to seek out new experiences and cast significantly wider social nets. But as our sense of time begins to collapse and speed up with age, experiences and relationships that carry actual emotional weight become increasingly important.

That said, I get that plenty of older adults cheerfully maintain bustling social calendars, but that's not for everyone.

Friendship doesn't necessarily follow a standard formula, either

I spent my younger years dealing with people constantly reminding me of all the assorted (and usually unspoken) expectations that come along with traditional friendship:

• You have to keep in touch and "reach out" at regular intervals, even if there's no real reason to and nothing to talk about.
• You need to make plans and remember important occasions, even if all you do is send a greeting card through the mail.
• If something important is going on in your life, you're supposed to want to immediately share it with your so-called friends. Wanting to keep some things to yourself is considered strange or even selfish.
• You need to maintain at least the semblance of perpetual availability.

I get that those things are treasured pleasures to a lot of people. They make me want to disappear into the shrubbery Homer-style, though. Give me occasional deep conversations, important shared interests, and once-in-a-blue-moon meaningful get-togethers over daily chats and weekly gatherings any day.

There's no textbook definition of friendship everyone needs to subscribe to. Ultimately, friendship is what you decide it is, so it's worth focusing on people whose idea of it genuinely gels with yours.

And Then There's Social Media

Facebook, Instagram, and every other social platform out there have made sharing an almost automatic part of everyday life. We photograph our meals, announce new purchases, document vacations, and provide a constant running commentary on experiences that previous generations likely would have enjoyed without a peep to much of anyone.

And yes, I partake in this culture myself, as part of me still enjoys maintaining a running record of thoughts, occurrences, and other things that are important to me. But I'm increasingly conscious of the difference between wanting to share something and feeling that an experience somehow ought to be shared.

As a result, even people who follow me religiously across all of my social platforms don't necessarily know me but so well anymore. That's deliberate.

But what happens when we document absolutely everything?

In a 2014 study, psychologist Linda Henkel found that participants who photographed the exhibits during a trip to a museum ultimately remembered far fewer details about them than those who simply stayed in the moment and observed them old-school.

However, there's also research out there that suggests taking photographs can enhance enjoyment if it also increases engagement. In other words, the effects of our decision to document our lives and experiences depend on what we're doing, how we're doing it, and why.

The pleasure of keeping something to yourself

Granted, I still share certain aspects of my life, sometimes almost as a rule. But people no longer necessarily hear about every single interesting thought that passes through my head:

• I've learned to simply enjoy fascinating historical tidbits I discover without posting about them.
• I've had numerous lovely afternoons in recent years without sharing a lick of photographic evidence that they ever happened.
• I don't think I've even told anyone about the last three or four hobbies I picked up out of nowhere.

When I keep things to myself, or possibly only share them with those I'm closest to, those experiences actually become part of the fabric of my life instead of just another social media contribution for people to scroll past or evaluate.

I strongly recommend at least trying it.

Choose something you'd ordinarily share and keep it to yourself instead. Actively notice whether your enjoyment of that thing changes as a result. Maybe you'll miss the sharing, but you might be surprised.

What Does "Enough" Look Like to You?

The older I get, the more I focus on having "enough" instead of simply having "more" – especially enough alone time, enough substance to the relationships I do choose to maintain, enough things that I do without assigning any larger point to them.

So, instead of measuring your own social life by the number of friends or frequency of interactions that come with it – especially if things are feeling off – maybe ask yourself a couple of questions:

• Which interactions do I genuinely look forward to?
• Which of my relationships require more energy than I comfortably have available?
• Am I truly getting enough companionship, affection, and support?
• What would I spend more time doing if I felt less obligated to be socially available?

You might decide you need more friendships, but you could well wind up like me and realize you actually need fewer. It's definitely a choice and a potentially enriching one at that.