My New Year’s resolutions are always the same: to curb my emotional dependency on Diet Coke (my personal best is three months), to be more consistent in the gym and to be better with money. This year, I’ve thrown out those vague, unrealistic self-improvement goals in favour of a goal I will actually stick to: saying no to friend catch-ups.
By this, I don’t mean that I won’t see any of my pals again. I’m talking about rejecting a specific, exhausting dynamic that has come to dominate my calendar. You know the one: bi-monthly meet-ups conducted in a cramped bar, music blaring, voices raised as we rattle through the same checklist: “How’s work?”, “How’s your mom?”, “Any holidays planned?” Instead of making memories, I squeeze in a “quick coffee” on a Saturday morning or a few rushed small plates at a restaurant after work, before we scatter back to our respective responsibilities, slightly drained and none the wiser.
As I’ve sleepwalked into adulthood, I’ve noticed that my social interactions have become focused on observing each other’s lives, rather than actually participating in them. This dynamic has begun to feel stale and insincere, as if we’re merely reciting lines from a pre-rehearsed script, instead of having fulfilling conversations. I admit that I’ve let this pattern dictate my calendar without question out of sheer laziness; a 90-minute slot at a nearby establishment requires little foresight, compared to thoughtfully planning an activity that my friend and I might enjoy doing together (based on the shared interests that made us become friends in the first place).
Don’t get me wrong: It’s nice to share life updates with friends — all of your woes and achievements. But I’ve often left these get-togethers with little more than a hoarse throat and a headache from talking so much. As you get older, you naturally become more protective of your time. What I don’t understand is why that protection so often comes at the expense of friendship, reduced to narrow slots in the diary and treated like mundane admin. In trying to manage our lives more efficiently, we seem to lose the capacity to go deeper with the people who know us best, leaving conversations surface-level, rushed and strangely unsatisfying.
In 2026, I will politely decline that invitation to a Tuesday after-work natter and suggest a late-night exhibition instead. It really is as simple as finding a yoga class, going to the movie theater, mooching round a gallery, or trying a new hobby together. There are no rules: It just has to be anything but the interview-style catch-up.
I’m only one week into this new philosophy, but I’ve already found that I’m becoming more considerate of my friends and their respective interests. I’ve booked tickets to an immersive data projection exhibition for a (very niche) companion who likes maths and music composition, and joined another at her weekly yoga class. Most of my friends who have been guinea pigs to this new rule have admitted they also felt uninspired by rushed meet-ups and repetitive conversations. So far, so good.
All of this could easily backfire because I am due – in a matter of weeks – to move across the Atlantic, meaning that catch-up opportunities will be less frequent. But that’s why I’m determined to make the moments we have together actually memorable. To have something fun to look back on.
New Year’s resolutions, after all, are often empty promises. They are flawed because they tell us that we are not living our lives correctly. It is this voice of self-reproach that tells us that we should be healthier, smarter, thinner, more productive and accomplish more. But as we reckon with January and make (unrealistic) pledges with ourselves, an easy fix is searching for fulfillment in what already exists. Investing in my friendships is a resolution I can keep. Just don’t ask me about quitting Diet Coke.
