A hundred laughing emojis can fill your phone while the rest of your life goes suspiciously quiet.
THE BOYS (est. 2016, 47 members)
You know this chat. It has a name that was funny when everybody was drunk in 2016, a group photo nobody can explain, and enough forwarded videos to qualify as a struggling media company.
What follows is an imaginary week in one of those chats. Every character is made up. The behavior, unfortunately, probably looks familiar.
MONDAY, 8:12 AM
Marcus:
Dee: 😂😂😂
Trey: that raccoon has a better retirement plan than me
Ant: [photoshops his face onto the raccoon]
Welcome to The Meme Economy. The currency is funny, the exchange rate is instant, and the market never closes. You can have an entire friendship conducted in memes and still know precisely nothing about how the other person’s life is going. We are exceptionally skilled at sending a man a raccoon. Less skilled at asking whether he’s okay.
TUESDAY, 6:47 PM
Trey: bro that haircut cost you actual money?
Marcus: your hairline started social distancing in 2018
Dee: I’m reporting both of you to the barber licensing board
That would be The Roast Pit, one of the oldest languages of male affection. I support a well-executed roast. I also want you to notice what happens when it’s the only language allowed in the building. A man can hear ten exquisite insults about his forehead and go five years without hearing, “I’m glad you’re my friend.”
SUNDAY, 1:03 PM
Dee: FIRE THE COACH INTO THE SUN
Ant: WHO THROWS THAT ON THIRD DOWN
Trey: I’m turning the game off (he does not turn the game off)
The Sports Wire gives everybody a reason to check in. Nothing wrong with that. Shared interests are real friendship material. But when the season ends, does anyone check in about anything that didn’t come with a scoreboard?
FEBRUARY, 7:15 PM
Ant: we should all get together. seriously. cabin trip?
Fourteen heart reactions. Zero dates suggested. Three weeks later, somebody posts a different raccoon.
Ah, The Ghost Town. Forty-seven contacts, one annual plan, and enough heart reactions to construct a tiny emotional cemetery. Everyone says, “We should hang out.” Everybody apparently means, “Please don’t assign me logistics.”
Here’s where the funny part stops being enough.
Imagine Marcus sitting in a hospital parking garage at two in the morning. His dad is upstairs. The news isn’t good. His phone is in his hand, THE BOYS is open, and he types three words: I am scared.
He stares at them. Deletes them. Sends a GIF of a man collapsing into a chair.
Dee: mood 😂
That scene is fictional. The difficulty it illustrates deserves to be taken seriously. Marcus may have friends who would drive across the state to help him. He may also have no practice telling any of them he’s frightened. Those two realities can occupy the same phone.
In the 2021 American Perspectives Survey, 21 percent of men said they’d received emotional support from a friend in the previous week, compared with 41 percent of women. That does not mean the other 79 percent of men have no friends. It tells us about one specific kind of support during one specific week.
The broader picture matters too. Pew Research Center reported in 2025 that men and women are about equally likely to say they have at least one close friend, while women are more likely to say they’d turn to friends for emotional support. So the question isn’t whether men are capable of friendship. Of course we are. The question is whether we give ourselves and each other permission to use it when things get heavy.
I want two upgrades to this system. Neither requires a weekend retreat, a trust fall, or a man named Chad wearing a headset microphone.
Upgrade one: send a real sentence to one person. Outside the group chat. Privately. Something like:
Hey. I know we mostly send dumb stuff, but you’re genuinely my friend and I appreciate you. No big occasion. Just wanted you to know.
If that feels like too much, start smaller: “You free for coffee this week? Been meaning to catch up.” Then make the plan. Pick an actual day. The cabin has suffered enough.
Upgrade two: learn what to do when the reply gets real. Your friend says he is having a rough time. Resist the urge to turn immediately into a comedian, fixer, or motivational speaker. Try: “That sounds rough. Want to talk about it?” Then listen. Ask if he wants advice or just company. Follow up tomorrow. You can send the raccoon after you’ve shown up.
And if you’re the one in that imaginary parking garage, asking for support doesn’t require a perfectly worded confession. “Can you call me? Dad’s in the hospital and I’m having a hard time” is plenty. If the first friend is unavailable, try another trusted person. Professional support belongs in the toolkit too.
I’m not here to declare group chats fake. Mine might be the funniest invention since somebody put wheels on luggage. I want them to be a doorway to connection instead of the place every conversation goes to avoid getting personal.
Your turn: which friend could you call this week, and what’s stopping you from making it a real plan? No need to share anybody’s private business in the comments. Tell me the first step you’re taking.
Keep the memes. Call your friend. There’s room for both.
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