You’re Not Lonely. You’re Getting Too Comfortable Being Alone

Think about this for a second: an 18-year-old who lives to 90 will have roughly 334 months of free time over the course of their life — about 27 years.

On average, 312 of those months, or 94%, will be spent on solitary leisure.

Scrolling. Streaming. Watching. Consuming. Mostly alone.

We often call this a loneliness epidemic. But that framing doesn’t tell the whole story.

Because many of us aren’t simply ending up alone. We’re slowly being trained to prefer it.

What the “Loneliness Epidemic” Gets Wrong

Calling it an epidemic makes it sound as though loneliness is something that just happened to us — the unavoidable result of living in a colder, more fragmented world.

There’s some truth to that. But there’s also a harder truth: technology has made being alone incredibly easy.

After a long day, you’re already drained. Then a friend texts to cancel your plans, and something surprising happens.

You feel relieved.

Not disappointed. Not lonely. Relieved.

You don’t have to get dressed. You don’t have to leave the house. You don’t have to make conversation or be fully present. You can stay exactly where you are and let a screen entertain you.

That feeling is understandable. But it also tells us something.

Loneliness is supposed to be a signal. It’s your mind’s way of saying, I’ve been alone too long. I should reach out.

But now, the moment that feeling appears, we can make it disappear. There’s always another video, episode, post or notification waiting to fill the silence.

The problem is that it rarely leaves us feeling restored.

You can spend two hours scrolling and come away more exhausted than when you started — and even less prepared for the attention, effort and vulnerability that real friendship requires.

The Friction Problem

Two-thirds of Gen Z — 67% — say they sometimes go days without leaving the house.

It isn’t always because they have nowhere to go.

Often, it’s because going out feels like work, while staying in requires almost nothing.

Making plans means choosing a place, finding a time, getting ready, travelling there and risking the possibility that the experience won’t be worth the effort.

Staying home means reaching for the device already in your hand.

One option has friction. The other has been engineered to remove it.

Over time, the easier choice starts to feel like the natural one.

Epidemic vs. Endemic

Some researchers have started questioning whether “epidemic” is even the right word.

ASU researcher Frank Infurna has argued that, particularly among middle-aged Americans, high levels of loneliness may be better understood as endemic: consistently present, deeply embedded and increasingly treated as normal.

That may be more unsettling than an epidemic.

Because epidemics eventually end.

Endemic problems become part of the background. We adapt to them. We stop noticing how much they’re costing us.

What’s Actually Happening

At Out There, we’re careful with the word loneliness because it can make the problem sound simpler than it is.

The issue isn’t only that people can’t find one another.

It’s that solitary leisure — scrolling, streaming and consuming alone — has become effortless and immediately rewarding.

Meanwhile, engaged leisure — spending time with people, being present and doing something real — asks something of us.

It requires a decision.

You have to put the phone down. Leave the house. Make the plan. Show up even when staying home would be easier.

Out There exists to make that choice easier.

We put money behind it. We financially reward our members for choosing engaged leisure over solitary leisure.

Not because we think you’re broken.

Because you’re competing against products designed to capture as much of your time and attention as possible.

You deserve some backup.

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The 6% of your free time that doesn’t go to a screen?

That’s where your stories come from.

That’s where your relationships grow.

That’s where your actual life is.

Join us.