When we see someone in their 60s without a large circle of friends, we often assume something went wrong. Maybe they pushed people away. Perhaps they never learned how to maintain relationships. Or worse, they must be difficult to be around. But what if we’ve been reading these situations completely backward?
Bella DePaulo, Ph.D., Academic Affiliate in Psychological & Brain Sciences at UCSB, challenges this assumption directly: “The assumption seems to be that their solitude is not their choice; when they are alone, they are especially likely to feel lonely, isolated, and distressed.”
The truth is far more nuanced. Many people who reach their later years with fewer close connections haven’t failed at friendship. Instead, they’ve made conscious choices over decades to stop pouring energy into relationships that demanded they become smaller versions of themselves.
The hidden cost of maintaining every connection
Think about your own friendships for a moment. How many require you to bite your tongue about politics? How many involve listening to the same complaints year after year without any change? How many demand you downplay your successes to avoid triggering someone’s insecurity?
I learned this lesson the hard way with a friend who constantly competed with me professionally and personally. Every achievement became a contest, every milestone a comparison. The friendship didn’t end in a dramatic confrontation. It ended when I stopped participating in the competition.
Research has identified 43 different strategies people use to end undesirable friendships, with gradual termination being the most preferred method. This finding suggests that many of us are already making these quiet choices, slowly withdrawing from relationships that no longer serve us.
The energy we spend maintaining draining friendships isn’t free. It comes at the expense of deeper connections with people who actually see us, support us, and celebrate our authentic selves. When someone in their 60s has fewer friends, they might simply have stopped paying that tax.
When solitude becomes strength
Here’s what surprises people: those who choose to have fewer social connections often report feeling less lonely than those surrounded by superficial relationships. DePaulo’s research confirms this counterintuitive finding: “People who are alone because they want to be alone feel less lonely.”
This isn’t about becoming a hermit or cutting everyone off. It’s about recognizing that solitude can be a positive choice rather than a punishment. Monica Vilhauer Ph.D. describes it perfectly: “Solitude is a positive state: the time and space to enjoy being with oneself — time out, or some space to drop out of the rat race, step off the treadmill, turn off the noise, and maybe enjoy nature.”
The people who thrive with smaller social circles have often discovered something profound about themselves. They’ve learned to enjoy their own company. They’ve developed rich inner lives. They’ve found that the quality of their remaining relationships actually improves when they’re not spread thin across dozens of obligatory connections.
The courage to let relationships evolve
Not every friendship is meant to last forever, and that’s okay. I had a falling out with a friend who felt I’d written about their industry unfairly. The experience taught me that work can complicate personal relationships in ways we don’t always anticipate. Sometimes, letting go is the kindest thing we can do for both parties.
Research on aging shows that as people perceive limited time ahead, they naturally prioritize emotionally satisfying relationships. This isn’t giving up on friendship. It’s becoming more selective about where to invest emotional energy.
Consider how many relationships in your life exist primarily out of obligation. The friend from high school you have nothing in common with anymore. The former coworker who only contacts you when they need something. The family friend who makes every gathering uncomfortable with their judgmental comments.
Recognizing authentic connection
What does a genuine friendship look like after you’ve stopped performing? In my experience, it looks like the two former coworkers I still keep in touch with. We moved beyond just complaining about editors together. We built something real that survived job changes and life transitions.
Author Maitland captures this beautifully: “The joy of long periods of solitude has also increased my joy in non-solitude: I love my children, my friends, my colleagues as much as ever, and I attend to them better when I am with them – and enjoy them more.”
When you stop maintaining relationships out of guilt or fear, something remarkable happens. The connections that remain become richer. You show up more fully. You listen better. You give from abundance rather than obligation.
The price of choosing yourself
There are real costs to this approach. Studies have found that older adults with fewer close friends face higher risks of developing depressive symptoms. This research reminds us that the choice to limit social interactions isn’t without potential consequences.
But context matters. Are these individuals depressed because they have fewer friends, or do they have fewer friends because maintaining inauthentic relationships became too exhausting? The research doesn’t always capture the relief that comes from finally dropping the mask.
I lost my best friend from college to a slow drift that taught me friendships require maintenance, not just history. But maintaining a friendship that no longer fits who you’ve become is like wearing shoes that gave you blisters years ago just because you once loved them.
Final thoughts
The next time you encounter someone in their 60s with a small social circle, resist the urge to pity them. They might not be lonely or isolated. They might have spent decades learning what many of us are still struggling to understand: that choosing yourself isn’t selfish, it’s necessary.
Real connection doesn’t require a large audience. It requires authenticity, and authenticity often means disappointing people who preferred your performance to your truth. Those who reach their later years with fewer but deeper connections haven’t failed at friendship. They’ve succeeded at something much harder: being themselves.
