Modern Love, Modern Loneliness: Why Relationships Feel More Fragile Than Ever

In an age where we're more connected than ever why does it seem like our relationships have never felt more tenuous?

I learnt a new word today - ‘phubbing’, a portmanteau of the words “phone” and “snubbing”, prioritising your phone over the person you're with, whether it's scrolling through social media, texting, or simply looking at your phone instead of engaging in a conversation. Researchers found that “from a sample of 143 individuals involved in romantic relationships, seventy percent responded that cell phones “sometimes,” “often,” “very often,” or “all the time” interfered in their interactions with their partners.”

In an age where we're more connected than ever—our phones buzzing with notifications, our calendars packed with Zoom calls, our social media feeds an endless scroll of other people's highlight reels—why does it seem like our relationships have never felt more tenuous?

I spend a lot of time in my local cafe, working and writing. It’s just up the road from my house. The barista sees my car pull up, and he’s already making my long black. Like all quintessential Melbourne cafes, it’s a place where the staff know everyone’s names and coffee orders. People stand chatting with the staff and each other while their drink is made.

Yet, glancing around the dozen or so people sitting at tables, almost everyone has a phone in their hands, even if with others. They share a space, but each inhabits a different world. Surely, this is a metaphor for today—together, yet apart.

I’m not always any different. I read the newspaper on my phone, interact with friends on WhatsApp, talk to colleagues on Slack, and constantly monitor my emails to see if a customer needs assistance. The first thing I do each morning when I wake is reach for my phone and check for alerts and notifications—it’s a good thing I do, because once in a while, there will be some kind of issue on our technology platform that’s arisen overnight that needs to be quickly addressed.

While social media facilitates constant connectivity, it's essential to ensure that face-to-face interactions remain a priority. Quality time spent together offline can significantly enhance emotional connections and reduce feelings of loneliness. Couples who are constantly on their phones when with each other need to consciously balance their online interactions with meaningful in-person engagement consciously

Social media does allow for a new form of intimacy, enabling us to share daily moments and express affection publicly. This digital intimacy can enhance the emotional connection between partners when managed appropriately. However, sending me several dozen Insta Reels a day crosses the line!

I saw some commentary recently that partnerships are increasingly seen through the lens of individual desires rather than shared commitments, contributing to a perception that relationships are more disposable and less stable than in previous generations. Technology has led to us becoming more self-absorbed, even selfish. And it’s drawn us into a culture of comparison and jealousy - he’s got bigger abs than me, she’s skinnier than me. These are self-destructive feelings created by curated images of perfect lives, bodies and relationships - the influencer culture. Yet it’s total fiction generated by ego and income.

Viral content showcasing "relationship goals" can shape cultural expectations, particularly among younger people who might be more engaged with these digital narratives.

Our media also plays a critical role in shaping perceptions of love and connection across different cultures. Movies, television shows, and literature often present idealised versions of romantic relationships that can create unrealistic expectations among viewers.

Despite unprecedented connectivity, many struggle with a paradox: feeling profoundly alone amidst a sea of digital interactions. This phenomenon begs the question: Why do relationships today feel more fragile than ever?

The Rise of Parasocial Relationships

How many of us know more about the Kardashians and Taylor Swift than our neighbours? These are parasocial relationships—one-sided connections with media figures who feel like friends but don't know we exist. We follow celebrities' relationships, breakups, and daily activities with an intensity once reserved for our closest friends. We feel a sense of intimacy with podcasters whose voices accompany us on commutes, streamers who game with us through screens, and influencers who share seemingly unfiltered glimpses of their lives.

This shift doesn't just change how we consume news—it transforms how we relate to each other. Genuine relationships require vulnerability, compromise, and occasional discomfort. Parasocial relationships offer the illusion of connection without these demands.

The Paradox of Connection

It’s ironic. I have hundreds of ‘friends’ on social media, but how many of them would come and help me move a couch? Maybe I’m slow on the uptake, but verbalising that thought took me a long time. I now make a deliberate point of offering to help people—usually, I’ll couch it (boom boom) with ‘I’ve no idea how I can help, but don’t hesitate to ask’.

And those glamorous celebrities, surely they are surrounded by friends? In a documentary a few years ago, Lady Gaga, one of the most successful female pop artists in history, admitted: “All these people will leave, right? They will leave and then I’ll be alone. And I go from everyone touching me all day and talking at me all day to total silence.”

Those celebrities and influencers are not immune to the hollow nature of fame’s connections. People surround them, yet they are fundamentally isolated.

We all have our devices and set high expectations for their capabilities to connect, inform, and assist us. But that’s a superficial engagement with people elsewhere without any depth of connection.

The interplay between technology and intimacy has produced mixed outcomes; while social media enables connections, it can also lead to misunderstandings and increased feelings of insecurity.

Research indicates a correlation between extensive social media use and declines in relationship quality: “people who use social media for the motive of maintaining their relationships feel lonelier than those who spend the same amount of time on social media for other reasons. While social media may facilitate social contact to a degree, they may not facilitate the type of contact sought by those who use social media primarily for this reason.”

The pressures of constant connectivity can exacerbate feelings of isolation, especially among younger generations, leading to a paradox where increased digital interactions fail to translate into deeper emotional connections. If I’m not posting on Instagram constantly, do I exist?

The Generational Shift

Research by the Growth Distillery, in collaboration with Medibank, reveals that one in four Millennials and Gen Z individuals report loneliness as a daily stressor. Factors contributing to this epidemic include a preference for online interactions over face-to-face engagements, economic pressures, and societal uncertainties. The COVID-19 pandemic has further exacerbated these issues, disrupting traditional socialisation patterns and fostering a reliance on digital communication.

The social transformations over the past two centuries have profoundly impacted Western family structures. As the concept of individualism has become more pronounced, the focus has shifted from collectivist ideals of family cohesion to personal fulfillment within romantic partnerships. This shift has emphasised emotional connection and mutual satisfaction as the foundations of relationships, contrasting sharply with earlier arrangements that prioritised familial obligation and economic stability.

In societies with collectivist values, such as India and China, arranged marriages remain prevalent, reflecting a trust in familial decisions over individual romantic preferences. This contrasts with individualistic cultures, where the pursuit of romantic love is emphasised, supported by the proliferation of dating apps that allow for selective partner choice.

The Power of Presence

Ed Sheeran is one of the world's most famous performers. Guess what? He doesn’t have a phone; he got rid of it ten years ago.

“Ed said he decided to get rid of his phone around December 2015 after realizing he had too many contacts from before he rose to fame. "I had the same number from like age 15, I think," he said, "and I got famous, and I had 10,000 contacts in my phone that would just — people would just text the whole time. And I was just constantly in touch with a lot of people."

He now has an iPad and only responds to emails a couple of days a week.

It’s an obvious trope, but Thich Nhat Hanh’s quote, “The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.” rings truer today than ever.

Ed Sheeran isn’t alone. In a 2021 interview, actor Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson shared, "I've learned the most valuable things in life come from being present—not from the phone, not from work... just being there for the people who matter."

The Attention Economy

Perhaps the most insidious force undermining our relationships is what social psychologists call "the attention economy," a marketplace where our focus is the commodity being bought and sold by tech companies.

Former Google design ethicist Tristan Harris explains it bluntly: "Your attention is being fought over by companies who want to get you to look at their thing." Our devices and apps are engineered to capture and hold our attention, often at the expense of the person sitting across from us.

This creates what psychologist Sherry Turkle calls "alone together"—physically present but mentally absent from each other, our attention fractured and diverted by the constant pull of digital distraction.

Artificial Companionship

Some have turned to artificial intelligence for companionship in seeking solace. People now use AI tools such as Claude as their therapists for advice and life reviews’. The advent of AI "friends" and romantic partners presents a novel solution to loneliness but raises ethical and psychological concerns. Whilst critics argue that genuine friendship necessitates mutuality and equality, these tools can be valuable for people who find reaching out to an actual human too confronting. However, engaging with AI companions may offer temporary comfort but could ultimately deepen feelings of isolation and hinder the development of real-world relationships.

Navigating Modern Dating

The modern dating scene, characterised by abundant choices facilitated by dating apps, can lead to decision paralysis and a reluctance to commit. There is a mood that with so much choice on offer via the apps, people are hesitant to settle, constantly seeking the next ‘best thing’. But surely this leads to a plethora of superficial connections and poor quality relationships?

After a friend let me scroll through her Tinder, I thought we need personal development and writing workshops for blokes on dating apps! It’s rather sad to read the endless ‘fishing and gym’ profiles, the constant 4WD photos, and the awful communication skills.

Searching for a mate via technology may be popular, but seeing what this entails is depressing. It’s also wholly lopsided; women can have 1,000 likes, and men open champagne when they receive one like. Bizarrely, there’s a trend for women to dumb down their profiles. Got a PHD? Don’t mention it!

Part of what makes modern relationships feel so fragile is our cultivated culture of disposability. In a world of next-day delivery, streaming content, and swipe-right dating, we've developed what philosopher Zygmunt Bauman called "liquid relationships", connections lacking previous generations' solid foundation.

Dating apps present potential partners as infinite and interchangeable. Social media encourages us to curate relationships based on utility and engagement metrics. Even marriages seem more transient, with divorce rates that would shock our grandparents.

We carry the whole world in our pocket, yet the endless options create what psychologists call "the paradox of choice" - more options make us less satisfied with our decisions.

Finding Substance in a World of Surfaces

So, where does this leave us? Are meaningful, durable connections still possible in our fragmented modern landscape?

I believe they are, but they require intention and resistance against the forces pulling us toward superficiality.

Writer and philosopher Alain de Botton suggests that our romantic expectations have become impossibly inflated: "The person who is best suited to us is not the person who shares our every taste, but the person who can negotiate differences in taste intelligently and dialectically." In other words, we must move beyond the algorithm-driven matching of interests to the messier, more rewarding work of navigating differences.

This applies not just to romantic relationships but also to friendships. True friendship isn't about constant entertainment or utility; it's about showing up consistently, especially when inconvenient.

To counteract the fragility of modern relationships, it is imperative to cultivate intentionality and embrace vulnerability: genuine engagement, active listening, and the willingness to be open and authentic foster meaningful connections. Prioritising quality over quantity in our interactions can lead to more fulfilling and enduring relationships.

Moreover, redefining our understanding of love to encompass various forms—romantic, platonic, familial—can alleviate the pressure on any relationship to fulfill all emotional needs. Nurturing diverse connections contributes to overall well-being and provides a more robust support system.

The contemporary relationship landscape is undeniably complex, influenced by technological advancements, societal shifts, and evolving personal expectations. While the challenges are significant, they also present opportunities for growth and deeper understanding. By acknowledging the limitations of digital interactions, learning from the experiences of others, and fostering intentional, vulnerable connections, we can navigate the delicate balance between modern love and modern loneliness, building resilient, authentic, and deeply fulfilling relationships.

Modern love and friendship are more challenging to maintain than in previous eras. The forces pulling at our attention are sophisticated and relentless. The culture encourages disposability over durability. Our tools often enable avoidance rather than vulnerability.

But perhaps naming these forces is the first step toward resistance. It starts with small, deliberate choices: putting down phones during dinner, scheduling regular unplugged time with loved ones, practicing vulnerable communication, and choosing depth over breadth in our social circles.

Packing our schedules with dates, activities, and commitments isn’t the path to a more connected life. Instead, it’s the quality of attention we give, the way we foster, grow, and strengthen our connections with the good humans around us.