The Inconvenience of Friendship

Please, take up all my time

Jason Chang

I have always struggled with accepting help from others. My stubborn, head-strong self prefers to put my head down and stolidly plow ahead, insisting that I can do it myself. And to be fair, most of the time I’m right. But just because you can do something alone, doesn’t mean you should. Yet I perpetually choose to do so—against the advice of my therapist fearing, above all, of being a burden to others.

Growing up, I approached friendship and connection just like any other problem. It was a simple calculus: offer more pros than cons on paper and ensure that interactions accumulated to a net positive, and you would succeed. Under this definition, I thought the perfect friend was one who never asked much of you. The ideal friendship is one that never causes disruptions, never intrudes, and above all never demands anything from you. But in all this I missed a crucial point: Friendship is meant to be an inconvenience. 

Looking back through the connections I treasure the most, I realize this has always been true. The friends I appreciated the most were not the ones who never imposed themselves. It was the people who dragged me out of my comfort zone (kicking and screaming when necessary). The people who pestered me and called my phone seven times until I came to a party when I didn’t want to. True friendship doesn’t sit quietly in the background—it stands up, makes its presence known, and demands your time and attention. And yes, sometimes that can be uncomfortable, but that’s the point. Friends are there to save us from ourselves, and push us to be more than we are.

In a world that sanctions individualism, and a culture that exhorts pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, we need to relearn how to care, or perhaps, more importantly, how to allow ourselves to be cared for. Simple favors that used to be asked of our friends and neighbors are being supplanted by apps that preach convenience. And if you’re anything like me, you jump at the opportunity to not have to burden others. Don’t bother asking for a ride to the airport, just Uber instead. No need for a friend to deliver groceries when you’re sick, Postmates has it covered. 

Beyond that, a growing hustle culture, fueled by 10 new productivity apps released a day, urges us to streamline and optimize our days. An army of influencers show us how to fit even more into each rise and fall of the sun, and compels us to make more of our time. In such a world, friendship can find a place on the chopping block. An inefficiency to be culled. Yet these algorithms and spreadsheets miss the point entirely: Friendship isn’t about perfection or efficiency—it’s a detour. It is a welcome disruption to your routine, a dopamine-infused wrench in your perfectly crafted agenda. 

Sure, you can get to the airport fine without me. But I want to take off work and travel halfway across the city to drive you there, talking about our favorite reality show on the way. Friendship isn’t efficient, nor should it be. I want to take two buses and trek halfway across campus in the pouring rain to watch your rugby game. I want to sit with you out in the hall when you’ve had too much to drink and you miss your ex again. And I’d hope you want to do that for me too. Friendship is not transactional. It’s not conditional. I want to do it because I care, and I don’t care if it wastes my time. 

So please, take up my time. Challenge my status quo. Bug me because you’re bored, annoy me with that text about the funny thing you saw on the way to class, and ask for my help moving to your new apartment. And above all, don’t be afraid to be an inconvenience.