The Shape of Modern Loneliness

A free post

Here we go. Today, we begin a 5-week deep conversation about Modern Loneliness, designed to feel reflective, informative, and lightly provocative. This has to be the topic of the century, actually.

Evolutionarily wired for connection, we built a world that keeps us apart, and we suffer because of it.

Officially, Gen Z is now the loneliest generation on record, with 60% reporting feeling lonely often or always (Cigna 2021–2023). Many feel isolated even when surrounded by peers. Studies attribute this to social media, remote schooling during the COVID-19 pandemic, and a decline in interpersonal skills. 25–30% of Gen Zs report having no close friends. Many fear rejection and feel social anxiety, so they replace face-to-face interactions with online connections.

Millennials don't feel much better. Roughly 45–50% report frequent loneliness, experiencing friendship decay (losing friends over time). Many lost social ties during pandemic lockdowns and never rebuilt them. They struggle with a lack of time due to work/kids. They say friends move away or drift apart and find it hard to make new friends as adults. They also feel hesitant to be vulnerable with others due to past emotional burnout and failed relationships.

30–40% of my generation, Gen X, report feeling lonely, especially divorced men or women whose kids have grown up. They often experience "friendship thinning" but hide loneliness due to stigma. We've become caregivers for our parents and support grown-up kids through their struggles. But prioritizing others comes at the expense of building our own friendship networks and finding life partners.

Loneliness rates increase sharply after age 60, especially for those who live alone. Over 40% of Boomers report regular feelings of loneliness and isolation. Those widowed or divorced feel hit the hardest. Frequently, chronic illness, reduced mobility, retirement, living far away from their children, and loss of social structures amplify their isolation.

According to a 2021 YouGov poll and other studies:

• 27% of U.S. adults say they have no close friends (up from 2% in 1990).

• Among men under 30, 15% say they have zero close friends (Pew, 2022).

Main reasons given:

• "I'm introverted/shy" – 53%

• "Making new friends as an adult is hard" – 45%

• "I'm too busy with work or family" – 38%

• "People moved away or fell out of touch" – 34%

• "I don't trust people easily anymore" – 22%

• "I don't feel interesting enough to others" – 19%

From Pew Research (2023) and other dating/relationship studies:

• Around 31% of U.S. adults are single, but half of singles aren't actively looking.

• Among adults under 30, 63% of men and 34% of women are single. (If you are wondering why there is a huge disparity in the numbers, it's because women often date older men.)

Top reasons people cite for not having a partner:

• "I have more important priorities right now" – 54%

• "I enjoy being single" – 43%

• "It's hard to meet people where I live" – 37%

• "I don't feel confident in myself" – 28%

• "I've had bad experiences" – 24%

• "I’m afraid of being hurt or rejected” – 19%

• “I don’t know how to date or flirt anymore” – 16%

Many people also mention burnout from dating apps, fear of commitment, or a deep longing for “the real thing,” but have no idea how to find or sustain it.

I am part of the “singles” statistic, although I do not feel lonely because I do have a cute dog and good friends. I enjoy being single. I’ve had bad experiences, and I can’t last more than a few days on a dating app. I don’t want to invest the time to sort through a bunch of strangers like Amazon shopping for the perfect shoes, wondering if they’ll fit and if I can get free returns.

I also paid too much attention in my psychology classes, I guess, because I am very alert to red flags and incompatibilities in possible mates. Dating someone usually comes down to a cost-benefit analysis in my head, and I find myself unwilling to compromise just to be in a relationship. If it looks like too much work, unnecessary drama, or problems down the road, I’d rather walk the dog or go dancing.

Clearly, a huge percentage of other singles do not share my attitude. The loneliness they feel has led to serious consequences for many. Suicide rates are up, especially among young men. Substance abuse rates are up. Things are so bad that we now have a “loneliness epidemic” on our hands.

People crave meaningful connections. They live with a chronic, low-grade sense of disconnection. Conversations feel transactional. Relationships feel temporary and are not prioritized. They don’t feel seen or felt. In the U.S., the number of people living alone has quadrupled since 1940. The multi-generational households of the past have given way to one person per home as the national standard.

"Touch starvation" (a clinical term) is now a documented public health concern, especially after the pandemic.

We built the tools to stay in touch, but forgot to ask: at what cost?

To be clear, technology didn’t create loneliness, but it amplified and distorted it. It made our social lives measurable and gamified, but not always meaningful. We got hooked on likes, followers, and emojis. The dopamine hits we get from notifications replaced the oxytocin we used to get from hugs and face-to-face interactions with people who care about us.

Social media gives us the illusion of closeness while reinforcing a sense of emotional distance. And dating apps? They promise abundance but often deliver paralysis, ghosting, and a vague sense that we are both replaceable and never quite enough.

We’re more “reachable” than ever, but less touched. We’re networked out there but missing heart connections and human comfort.

Where there's loneliness, there’s potential for vulnerability. The digital world has learned how to profit from it. Romance scams have surged in recent years, especially among older adults and those grieving or recently divorced. In 2023 alone, Americans lost over $1.3 billion to online romance scams, often after months of emotional grooming.

I should know. I got hooked on catfishing stories a couple of years ago. They fascinate me. Seemingly normal, rational people fall for the craziest, most unbelievable setups and lose everything they have to some guy in Lagos, Nigeria, pretending to be Prince Charming or a sexy heiress of a multimillionaire father, yet somehow needing money for Wi-Fi and groceries. How is this even possible?

Side note: I don’t want to admit it, but I do think of ways to scam the scammers… but ChatGPT told me it’s risky. Should I listen?

Why are people falling for fake love stories and fabricated soldiers stationed abroad? Because when your emotional needs go unmet for long enough, even illusions feel comforting. Most people go against family concerns and all logic, always saying the same thing, “But this person made me feel special, seen, understood. They gave me hope.”

Loneliness is a psychological hunger. And like any hunger, we’ll sometimes reach for whatever is available, even if it’s junk. Anything to stop the gnawing feeling in our gut.

Most of these people found their connections online through dating apps and social media. But some find them in their hometowns. Single, older women get swindled by a handsome, charming handyman who moves in and robs them of not just the cash and jewelry but also their dignity and self-esteem.

Remember the Tinder Swindler? They even made a movie about him. He was real, alright, but lived off money he extorted from women with promises of love, adventure, and fake pictures of him bleeding in the emergency room. At least those women lived to tell the tale. Other sociopaths out there have driven their victims to suicide or murdered them in the end.

The common denominator among the victimized is always loneliness. Always.

Sadly, modern loneliness is deeply cultural. We valorize independence to the point of isolation. We often move away from our families, leave jobs and cities, and chase achievements, but in doing so, we lose our roots. Friendships get demoted to group texts. Relationships compete with productivity.

Our deepest need to be known gets crowded out by the demand to be efficient, impressive, and endlessly “fine.”

This isn’t to say we’re doomed. But it does mean that loneliness is no longer just personal. It’s systemic. And unless we recognize it for what it is, we’ll keep blaming ourselves for feeling this way.

Where We’re Headed Next

Over the next four weeks, we’ll explore different layers of this quiet epidemic:

• The illusion of online intimacy and emotional grooming

• The shame of being lonely in a connected world

• The social and political consequences of loneliness

• The disappearance of rootedness and community

• And how to find meaningful connections again

• And more

I hope this will make a difference in your life or the life of someone you know. If there is a particular question you want me to answer or a topic within this theme you want me to go into, let me know. I can always include extra posts in addition to the usual Wednesday ones.

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This post is free and written with love because I want it to reach people who need it. If it moved you, lifted you, or made you think, and want me to know it, leave a comment, share the post, or “tip” me either through Venmo @Valentina-S-Petrova, or “Buy Me A Coffee.”

With love and care,

Val.