On Having No Friends

I don’t have a single friend.

That might sound surprising, but it really comes down to how you define “friend.” For me, a friend is someone you keep in touch with for no particular reason—just because you feel like it.

I’ve never been the type to have lots of friends, even as a child. And now, as an adult, I realize I don’t have anyone I’d truly call “my friend.”

Of course, in San Francisco, my husband’s hometown, I’ve been lucky to meet wonderful people through him. They’re friendly, kind, and I genuinely enjoy their company. But let’s be honest—they’re still friends “by association.” I wouldn’t, for example, ask any of them out for coffee, just the two of us.

There’s a difference between loneliness and solitude. Just because you’re alone doesn’t mean you’re lonely. In fact, it’s all too common to feel lonely in a crowd.

Some people like to boast about how many friends they have, but for me, having lots of so-called “friends” I can’t really open up to just makes me feel more isolated. I’d much rather be alone than surrounded by people I don’t truly connect with. I don’t mind doing things by myself; in fact, I prefer it. Life’s too short to spend it putting on an act, just to keep up appearances and fit in with a group.

Honestly, I barely have time as it is. My days are full—there’s housework to do, interesting things to read, precious time to spend with my husband—and before I know it, it’s time for bed.

Everyone has their own rhythm, and trying to coordinate schedules just to meet up feels like more effort than it’s worth. Maybe I’m missing out, but the truth is, I don’t have anyone I’d go to all that trouble for. Even if I did, life happens—people move, change jobs, and drift apart. That’s just how it goes.

TV dramas love to show friendships that are stronger than family ties—intense, passionate bonds that last forever. I won’t lie, there’s a part of me that envies that. But if I’m honest with myself, I’m not sure I’d really want that kind of relationship. Sure, having a best friend closer than family would be nice. But could I actually commit that much time and emotional energy? I doubt it.

This might seem off-topic, but there’s a Japanese children’s song called “When I Become a First Grader(一年生になったら)” The lyrics go, “When I become a first-grader, I wonder if I’ll have a hundred friends. I want to eat rice balls as a hundred on top of Mt. Fuji.”

As a contrary little kid, that line always puzzled me. As a hundred? Does that mean a hundred people in total—including me? Or should it be a hundred friends, plus me? Even as a child, I thought, “Wait, shouldn’t it be ‘with a hundred friends,’ not ‘as a hundred’?”
… That odd phrasing stuck with me for decades.

But now, I think I finally get it—or maybe I don’t. Either way, I’d still rather enjoy a rice ball alone than force myself to eat with a hundred people I hardly know.