I Don’t Want A Partner, Nor A Flatmate, But I Do Want ‘Sofa Friends’

‘Would you like to come over… and do nothing?’ It’s not the most typical request, but recently it’s what I’ve been craving. Allow me to explain: I’m single and I’ve lived alone for the past four years. It's a lifestyle which, day to day, suits me well but there’s one thing I miss. Living in a city of nine million people, it’s fairly easy to get a social plan in the diary (give or take a bit of calendar coordination). Yet, it’s infinitely harder to arrange a comfortable, low-interaction gathering... a ‘sofa friend’ if you will.

My coupled-up, cohabiting friends think I’m mad when I say my ultimate romantic fantasy is to sit curled up at opposite ends of the sofa, but it’s true. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my quality time alone (so much so that I even wrote my first book, Alonement: How To Be Alone & Absolutely Own It, on the subject). But, equally, some of my happiest moments have been spent ‘alone together’ with people I feel comfortable around: such as, while on holiday with my best friends last summer, reading on adjacent sun loungers, or watching television with my family during a weekend visit to my parents’ house.

This urge has intensified, I think, after two years of on-off lockdowns where socialising has felt hard. It wasn’t just the challenge of finding a mutually-convenient location, or getting dressed up – it’s also been about taking lateral flow tests and navigating various restrictions.

So last week, I tweeted about wanting friends to be ‘alone together’ with and it immediately struck a chord - prompting dozens of responses from others who felt the same. ‘Living alone (as I do, with my cat) means there’s no such thing as incidental company,’ shares Dr. Gen Ford, 41, an academic based in Melbourne. ‘When I have company, I’ve sought it out and invited them over (or out to do "A Thing" together), so I feel pressure to play host or at least be good company – which is sometimes taxing when my energy is in short supply.’ Like me, Gen occasionally longs for ‘someone who’s just there, to put the kettle on or share a thought bubble with.’

‘I have felt this craving for the simplest activities spent together, whether in the same room sharing a moment in silence or sitting next to one another on the sofa watching a movie under the same blanket,’ adds Claudine, 40, a manager who’s lived alone in Putney for five years. It’s not just those living alone who miss out on ‘sofa friends’, either. Lisa, 47, host of the Big Travel Pod and single mum of two young children, from the Wirral, says she misses ‘the in-built social life of having an adult at home to be with, to cook dinner with and chat to’.

According to clinical psychologist Dr. Marianne Trent, low-effort interaction is comparable to a social developmental stage called ‘parallel play’ – a crucial stage in children’s development.

‘It’s when you can be with another person but do your own thing and not feel pressure to interact’. In adulthood, we crave this companionship too. ‘Doing nothing with someone – like sitting together both wearing your joggers and no make-up, in companionable silence – is the ultimate acceptance,’ says Trent. ‘It’s liberating. You’re saying to each other, “You are enough, you don’t need to be judged – I’m happy to sit with you and share my vulnerability as well.’ Besides, she adds, ‘As mammals, we were originally meant to live together in groups, so of course we sometimes feel vulnerable when we’re by ourselves a lot.’

So what’s the solution? Speaking personally, I know an obvious way out of this ‘sofa friend’ deficit would be to find a romantic partner. In fact, I was told as much by a couple of well-meaning Twitter followers. Call me crazy, but I think while there are lots of good reasons to pursue a romantic relationship, just ‘having someone to sit on the sofa with’ shouldn’t be one of them. It’s not that I don’t understand the comfort that can come from that set-up, but sofa-time is a pleasant (if sometimes mundane) part of an established, long-term relationship, rather than the primary motivation for being in one.

In any case, the grass is always greener. As one Twitter follower put it, ‘It works the other way you know- I live with a partner and miss being "alone alone" sometimes’. As for another obvious solution – moving in with flatmates – that’s not something I’d want full-time. I’m fully aware that living alone – even with its occasional limitations – is a luxury.

Thankfully, I’m finding more novel ways to fulfil my ‘sofa friends’ craving. A couple of my friends and I have started spending Sunday evenings – a notoriously lonely time – together. We’ll head to one of our sofas for snacks and trash TV wearing our least fashionable leisure wear and zero make-up. Another friend and I have regular ‘tofu stir fry nights’ – it’s our favourite meal – on weeknights. Regardless of where this takes place (her flat or mine) we’ll generally cook and wash the dishes together, which removes the pressure of feeling like we’re ‘hosting’. Sometimes I’ll even come straight from the gym and shower at my friend’s, or vice versa. It’s like the best bits of cohabiting, one or two nights a week.

In order to establish these rituals in the first place, I had to show vulnerability (which, in my experience, is the best course of action when you’re seeking a greater or more specific kind of connection). I told my close friends what I was missing out on, and discovered that, lo and behold, some were feeling the same sofa-based void. ‘Comfortable companionship doesn’t have to look like sex, or be romantic,’ says Trent. ‘You have the choice to think about your own needs – and explore empowering ways to meet them.’

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