The New Rules of Friendship (That Nobody Asked For)

Three years ago, I wrote a column called “To Vent or Complain? That Is the Question.” Back then, I was unpacking my own relationship with frustration. I had come to see complaining as something that made me feel small, helpless, and stuck. Venting, on the other hand, felt different. It felt like release. Like movement. Like clearing something out so I could move forward.

Now, what once felt like a natural part of friendship (sharing frustrations, blowing off steam, being a little messy with people who know us) has quietly become something we’re supposed to manage, schedule, minimize, or apologize for.

We’re warned about “trauma dumping.” We’re told not to turn our friends into therapists. Rather, we’re encouraged to journal or save it for a professional.

Sure, emotional labor is real, burnout is real, boundaries matter.  So I get it…but I can’t shake the feeling that something else is happening here too.

It feels as though we’re not just talking about venting anymore. We’re legislating it:  Creating rules, frameworks, etiquette, and disclaimers around something that used to be instinctive. Ask first. Time-box it. Label it. Contain it. Minimize it. Make sure you’re not too much. Make sure you’re not a burden.

And I find myself wondering, if we start regulating how we’re allowed to be human with each other, what comes next?

A recent article in The Atlantic explores how anxious people have become about venting; both about doing it and being on the other side of it.

Some worry about being “too much.” Others feel emotionally exhausted by friends who lean on them. Venting is now framed as potentially toxic, impolite, or emotionally burdensome. And the question underneath it all, as I see it, isn’t really about venting. It’s about friendship. What is it for? What should it be?

Reading this new cultural conversation, I still believe venting can be healthy. I still believe it can be connective. I don’t believe friends exist to be drained, used, or emotionally exploited. But I also don’t believe they exist only for the curated, polished versions of ourselves.

Sometimes we vent not because we’re stuck, but because we’re trying not to be.

Sometimes we vent not to burden, but to connect.

And sometimes, the greatest gift we can give each other isn’t advice, solutions, or boundaries. It’s simply being there for each other…being present.

Friendship isn’t about owing. It isn’t transactional or contractual, or something that can be perfectly balanced on a spreadsheet of emotional labor.

Friendship is about being. About being seen. Being imperfect. Being human in the presence of someone who doesn’t require you to perform your “wellness.”

When we stop letting ourselves be messy with each other, we don’t become healthier…we become more alone.