The Post-Grad Sitcom Doesn’t Exist

Harvard students often lament the death of revelry on campus — and they may be right. They claim that there are too few parties, too many commitments, and unending extracurriculars.

But — the argument goes — once we leave these halls, things will change. In a gorgeous loft apartment in New York City, my five other dazzling best friends and I (also dazzling) will run wild in a fun-filled mania. We’ll know everyone. It’ll be like “New Girl,” where Jess skips around in strangely-tight curls and flirts cutely with her caricatured male roommates; or it will look like “Seinfeld,” where Jerry bursts in and out of diners, eating mushy tuna melts with abandon.

But unfortunately, the data simply doesn’t reflect that. The world that these sitcoms idolized does not exist anymore; indeed, it was glamorized to begin with.

What lies on the other side of graduation may be far more sinister: the end of socializing altogether. And you — yes you, reader — may not have as much fun. In the face of that possibility, we need to invest now to prevent this increasingly bleak future. Instead of incessantly harping on a far-off future as we so love to do, I propose we deliberately engage with the people and the experiences around us.

Recent evidence suggests that socializing is on the decline throughout the country. Across every generation group, but particularly for young Americans, time spent socializing is falling. The trend is likely responsible for a corresponding rise in social isolation, which in turn has troubling consequences for physical and mental health.

There’s a lot that might be said about why we’re interacting with each other less. This shift can be attributed to a psychological problem, an infrastructural problem, or the oft-maligned screens. Personally, I perceive us as living in a culture obsessed with work, “wellness,” and “me time.” But protecting yourself from the small annoyances inherent to interaction also deprives you of the benefits of socializing.

Have we simply not rebounded from pandemic isolation? Or maybe — as common wisdom has often suggested — social media is the culprit. So deep in the worlds of our phones, we’re not leaving the house or making plans in-person. I am less interested, though, in the question of why this trend is happening than in facing our future. We, the next generation of post-graduate students, are in big trouble. Our likelihood of living Jess’s dream life is quickly receding.

The fact is, we’re graduating into a world far more inward than our parents’ young adulthoods. And without the forced intimacy of dorms, on-campus dining, and collaborative academic environments, there’ll be little need to leave the comfort of one’s home.

The good news is that we are the generation with the keys to preventing this deeply troubling prospect. The college bubble of hyper-socialization will not last forever, but it gives us a preview of the kind of life we might want to build after we leave Cambridge. College provides us with constant opportunities to socialize — fun is accessible, easy, and built into the infrastructure. That’s exactly why this moment, with all its possibilities, is the right time to think intentionally about what we want our social life to look like next.

My aim is not to stir fear. Instead, I suggest each of us build habits of frequent social interaction.

What we need is a way to get ahead of these trends and build a life that doesn’t fall into the traps of the isolated age. College infrastructure gives us the right tools; now it’s up to us to invest in deep, life-long friendships. See yourself groaning about your problem set at dinner? Halt: You’re being un-fun. Only agreeing to 20-minute coffee dates? Invest in longer friendships, instead.

If we wait, stuck in the complacency and the certainty that all of life will be like undergrad, we’re in for a troubling next couple of decades. There may be scant ways to build the kind of vibrant “post-grad” life that used to be so central. We may end up, 15 years out, without the resources for a full and robust social life.

And who will want to watch a one woman sitcom?

Elana M. Farbiarz ’29, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Currier House.