Friends, Followers, and the Fine Print

Raising a teen in the age of ghosting, group chats, and glitchy connection.

I’ve been watching my son lately—not in a “hovering dad with binoculars” way, more like a quiet observer, trying to figure out if the friendships I grew up with still… exist.

He’s a social kid. Charismatic. Gets fist bumps and “yo bro”s at every event like he’s running for mayor of the high school parking lot. But the more I watch, the more I wonder:

Does he actually have someone he’s close to?
Not just a contact list. Not just mutual follows.
Someone who knows his real stuff. The good, the bad, the weird.

Because from where I’m sitting, his friendships seem… different.
Disposable.
Swappable.
Like Netflix recommendations: “If you liked this guy, try this new guy.”

---

The Best Friend Carousel

Every other week it’s a new “best friend.”
They hang out, they text a lot, they maybe sit together at lunch.
And then—poof. New name, new dynamic, same vague grin when I ask, “Still close with that one kid?”

When I was a kid, losing a friend was an event.
There were dramatic arguments. Guilt trips. Reconciliation snacks.
Now? It’s a silent block, an unfollow, and the friendship just gets quietly retired like a failed iPhone update.

I don’t think it’s his fault. I think it’s the world.
We’ve replaced connection with contact.
Replaced conversation with reaction buttons.
And I don’t know if we can really blame the kids when the grownups do it too.

---

We Earned Our Friendships Through Dumb Decisions

I’ve had the same core group of friends since middle school. We’ve seen each other through every season of life—awkward phases, heartbreaks, weddings, funerals, and a backyard fire pit experiment that taught us the difference between ‘fun’ and ‘flammable.

We don’t talk every day.
But when we do? It’s instant. It’s real.
We fall back into our rhythms like we never left.

We’ve fought.
We’ve cried.
We’ve made fun of each other’s music, fashion choices, and career pivots.
But we’ve been there. And we’re still there.

Those friendships were forged through late-night drives, locker room chaos, road trip breakdowns, and conversations that went too deep for the time of night or the amount of gas station snacks involved.

They were earned.
And I worry that my kid won’t get the chance to earn his.

---

Screens Don’t Build What Sleepless Nights Do

I see them at games, practices, hangouts. They’re together, but also not.
Heads down. Eyes on screens.
Texting people who aren’t even in the room instead of talking to the ones right next to them.

When we were in high school, not talking to each other meant something was wrong.
Now, it’s the default setting.

And I get it—we’re in a different era. They’re digital natives. Their friendships happen in Discord chats and Snap streaks and Minecraft servers.
But when the hard stuff hits—grief, loss, heartbreak—can a streak really hold you up?
Can an algorithm check in on you?

---

What I Hope He Finds

I hope he finds his people.

Not just teammates or classmates or whatever-label-they’re-using-this-week friends.
His people.

The kind who don’t flinch when he breaks.
The kind who sit with him when he’s too tired to speak.
The kind who remember him, even when he forgets himself.

I want him to have the kind of friendships that last through silence, disagreement, and distance. The kind that don't require constant maintenance—just presence. The kind you call when something goes wrong and you don’t need to explain why—you just say, “Can you come?” and they do.

---

The Hope

Maybe I’m just old.
Maybe they’ll figure it out in their own way.
Maybe group chats and reaction memes really do build emotional intimacy.

But I still hope that one day, when everything feels heavy, he picks up the phone and dials—not because he needs help solving the problem, but because he knows someone will answer.

And that voice will say,
“I got you.”

That’s what I want for him.
Not 100 followers.
Just one ride-or-die friend who shows up without being asked.

---

Drink Name: “The Last One to Leave”

For the friend who stayed through the awkward phases, bad decisions, and questionable facial hair.

Ingredients:

• 2 oz dark rum

• ¾ oz lime juice

• ½ oz maple syrup

• A pinch of sea salt

• Optional: splash of ginger ale to top

Instructions:
Shake the rum, lime, and maple syrup with ice—like you’re shaking out an old group text thread that still makes you laugh. Strain into a rocks glass over fresh ice, add a pinch of sea salt on top, and if you’re feeling nostalgic, hit it with a splash of ginger ale.

Why it fits:

• Rum brings the warmth and depth—like a real friend who’s seen your worst but still shows up.

• Maple syrup is for the sweet memories.

• Lime keeps it real with a little bite.

• Sea salt? Because no good story starts without a little sting.

Pairs well with:
Flipping through old photos, replying “you good?” to a 3-week-old text, and wondering how the hell you kept these people for 25 years.