A Confession: Why I Don’t Have Many Close Friends After 40

By William E. Smith

There’s something I’ve been carrying quietly, and I think it’s time I say it out loud: I don’t have many close friends. At 40-something, that truth hits differently than it did in my 20s or 30s. Back then, life was louder, messier, full of bodies and laughter and late-night calls. Now it’s quieter. Sometimes, too quiet. I take care of an elderly parent and work full time. There is not enough time in the day. And I know I’m not the only gay man who feels this way.

“I used to think friendship was forever,” a friend of mine, Derek, told me recently. He’s 47 and lives in Atlanta. “But the older I got, the more I realized a lot of my connections were tied to a version of me that didn’t last—bar scenes, shared trauma, even the identity of being ‘young and gay.’ When that faded, so did some of the people.” That hit me hard. Because I’ve felt that too. The friendships that were built on survival or nightlife didn’t always survive the stillness of midlife.

For a long time, I didn’t realize how much of my emotional wiring had been shaped by fear—of rejection, of being too much, of being vulnerable with other men. It’s one thing to hook up, but another thing entirely to sit with someone and say, I’m lonely. “I didn’t know how to build real emotional intimacy with other gay men,” said Jordan, a therapist I admire. “Sex was easy. Vulnerability? That was a different story.”

Then there’s the reality of life after 40. People move. Relationships deepen—or dissolve. We get busy. And if you’re not already part of a tight-knit friend group, it gets harder to break in. Miguel, a teacher in San Diego, said something that stuck with me: “I don’t have the same bandwidth I used to. And honestly, I won’t chase anyone anymore. If it’s not mutual, I let it go.” I feel that in my bones.

There’s also grief. I’ve lost friends—some to time, some to distance, some to death in this very same Facebook group. And the thought of starting over? It’s exhausting. Howard, who’s 59, put it simply: “Some of my closest friends are gone. And the energy to start fresh? It’s hard to summon that at this stage.” That’s a truth we don’t talk about enough—the emotional fatigue that comes with loss and reinvention.

But here’s what I’m learning: maybe it’s not about having many close friends. Maybe it’s about learning what kind of connection actually sustains me now. Less performance, more presence. Fewer people, deeper roots. More honesty. More “Hey, I miss you,” and less pretending I’m fine.

So yes, I don’t have many close friends. But I’m here. I’m open. I’m vulnerable. And if this resonates with you, maybe we’re already a little closer than we think.

Gay Life After 40 was the first group of its kind, and we’re still the heart of it all. Real talk, real support, real friendships. Let this be a place where you don’t have to hold it in.

💬 Your Turn

Have you felt this too? Are you navigating friendship differently after 40?
I’d really love to hear from you—your thoughts, your stories, or even just a “me too.”
Drop a comment below. Let’s remind each other we’re not as alone as we sometimes feel. 🖤