“Effort” is a word rarely said with excitement. It’s often followed by a very big sigh and dreams of an escape plan. More and more, we are trying to turn every task, engagement, arrangement and relationship into something that we can put as little effort into as possible, whether it be five-minute meals (which I love), systems that turn our lights on when we ask, or a passive, low-maintenance friendship. 

As I am entering the twilight years of my 20s, a lot of discussion around me is about how difficult it is to meet new people and develop new friendships as we get older. These same conversations are peppered with comments about not having time or wanting to make time for friends, how nice it is when plans are cancelled, or how not seeing or speaking to a dear friend for months is just part of adult friendships. Then, everyone talks about how they love low-effort friendships. Plus, no one wants to be perceived as a try-hard when “effortless” might just be the coolest thing that someone could call you (especially behind your back).  

I would argue that these “low-effort” friendships can, ironically, be even more tiring to maintain. Is there anything more daunting than sitting down with someone and being asked, “what have you been up to for the past six months?”. What follows is either an intense catch up or a surface level recap of a drama at work or rehearsed retelling of a recent situationship. The question is then batted back, the catch up ends and everyone feels tired.  And at what point does this just become a no-effort friendship? And can you consider a person you speak to every six months your good friend or you theirs? 

In the hyper-individualistic world that we have created for ourselves, one that was likely exacerbated by the isolation we grew accustomed to in lockdown, attempts to gather have become a process of navigating everyone’s social batteries, willingness (or lack thereof) to drive a little bit out of the way and willingness to commit to an event more than a week in advance. Granted, the last two are somewhat Cape Town specific. 

I am by no means blameless when it comes to this behaviour. I have certainly let over 70 unread messages accumulate on my phone, flaked on countless plans at the last minute and leant into the non-committal convenience of a passive friendship while being told it’s okay to do this in the name of anxiety and self-care. All that this left me with was a persistent feeling of guilt, far more anxiety and a longing for deeper connections—all things that I had more control over than we are led to believe. 

It no longer seems reasonable to ask people to compromise their routines in favour of building community. To an extent, routine has become essential for us to operate within the systems that run our lives but at a great cost. With it comes an aversion to spontaneity and putting comfort aside to show up for a friend or a friendship. I recently heard the sentiment (yes, on TikTok), “community disrupts routine” which is terribly ironic because, despite seemingly in direct conflict with one another, these two things are frequently listed as essential for one’s mental health. 

I believe that we need to reframe what “effort” and “asking a lot” means. Obviously, if you find yourself in a relationship dynamic that comes with unreasonable expectations, is non-reciprocal and emotionally taxing, that’s one thing and is probably in serious need of examination. However, with the friendships that we cherish, we should welcome our friends “asking a lot” from us. We should welcome being asked to dress up for a mid-week dinner party, just for the sake of it, or being asked to prepare something for the dinner party, whether it be a dish, drink, game or even performance. Ultimately, the subtext of requests like this is, “I want to build memorable moments with you”.

I was inspired to write this piece by two people in my life, both of whom go to great lengths for their friends and friendships, bringing a sense of occasion to everything they do. Their effort can certainly be seen in the house parties that have three months of planning behind them and include a homemade, limited-edition zine in the invite. It can also be seen in the carefully made cards and gifts that are presented in unexpected moments. It can even be seen in the intentional energy that they bring to an event, not just arriving to “show face” and fulfil an obligation. It has made me realise how rare this is and, more importantly, how infectious it is. When I am around them, I find myself wanting to put in the same effort and rethinking my subconscious understanding of “effort” as a burden.

It is encouraging to see that as we have grown more conscious of our loneliness, there has been an increase in community-building groups, such as the Cape Town Craft Club, Silent Book Club Cape Town and one of the city’s many inclusive running groups. These groups invite us to make an effort to get involved and spend intentional time with friends and soon-to-be friends. 

My hope is that we do not progress into a more community-oriented world effortlessly but rather that we progress into that world with intention, hours of willingly offered time and enthusiasm to show up for our friends, our friendships and ourselves.