PARIS — Marc* and Jean have been friends for over 40 years. A discreet but faithful relationship — one that lasted until they were 65. Marc always found Jean a little self-centered, but he put up with it. Until one Sunday evening at dinnertime. Marc’s phone rang: It was Jean. He was eating dinner and didn’t pick up. And forgot to call back.
A few weeks later, they met again. Jean looked at him and blurted out, “I buried my mother.” Surprised, Marc asked him why he had not told him. Jean replied that he had tried — on that famous Sunday evening — and gotten no answer. The message was clear. He was angry with him
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At first, Marc felt guilty. Then came the anger: “He could have sent me a message, instead of putting this on me.” That’s when their friendship shattered. Like an old, cracked mirror. Forty years of friendship, reduced to nothing because of a missed call? Marc doesn’t see it that way. It’s not the friendship that’s collapsed, it’s the look in his eyes. For the first time, he wondered how he could have been friends for so long with someone so self-centered. This feature Marc had always accepted, he could no longer stand. Jean had not changed; what had changed was Marc, who, at 68, no longer wanted to exhaust himself in a one-way relationship.
There are friendships that you think are unbreakable. The friends of our youth, whom you can meet again decades later as if nothing had changed. And yet, the many testimonials Le Figaro has received over the past few weeks make the point: Even these bonds can waver. Especially at 60.
Retirement is an eye-opener. When it’s time to reflect, some people decide to cut ties. To say stop. Out of a need for lightness. Out of new expectations. Out of weariness, sometimes. But what do you do with those decades of history? At what point do you decide it’s over? And above all, how do you say it?
Friends increase your chances of staying alive by 50%
Often overshadowed by our couple, family or career, friendship remains a discreet but essential pillar of our well-being. And what’s more, it has a direct impact on our health. In 2010, researcher Julianne Holt-Lunstad published a striking study in PLOS Medicine: Maintaining strong social ties could increase your chances of staying alive by 50%. This effect is comparable to that of quitting smoking, and even greater than that of physical activity or weight loss.
I don’t have time to be bored.
But essentially, what is friendship? A best friend? A circle of lifelong friends? A few precious souls we choose over time? Anthropologist Robin Dunbar has theorized our circles of relationships: five very close people, 15 close friends, 50 regular relationships, up to 100 and 50 steady social ties. As we age, these circles tighten. Psychologist Laura Carstensen refers to this as “socio-emotional selection.” The more time passes, the more we seek reliability. Fewer people, but more authenticity. “We know we’re running out of time. We want sincerity.”
There are many reasons for filtering out friendships, all of them personal. A subscriber to Le Figaro confided that she had broken up with a friend who was “in permanent denial,” unable to accept that she was aging. Another, on the opposite, distanced herself from those she found already too old: “When my friends only talk about their grandchildren or their aching backs, I give up. I don’t have time to be bored.”
The great filtering of relationships
With retirement, many ties fade. “From one day to the next, no more calls, no more e-mails. It took me a year to get used to it,” says Luc.
Sociologist Serge Guérin confirms: “When you retire, you lose over 50% of your social ties.” Even those you thought were secondary can end up missing. “Retirement is not always a liberation,” he adds. And if one spouse remains active, or if you relocate, isolation can set in.
Hélène, who is nearly 70 and now lives in Brittany, didn’t break up because of retirement, but following a number of shocks. There was COVID-19. Then an emergency surgery. A fear of dying. And, with it, a sudden awakening. “‘You can be told at any time that it’s over,” she sums up. She no longer wants to pretend. She doesn’t want to adjust any more to ties that have become too loose. “I don’t have time to adjust to people who aren’t there in the crucial moments.” She put an end to old relationships, forged in her youth, which became unsustainable with widening political or ideological differences. “These are people with whom I’ve shared a lot. But we just didn’t understand each other anymore.” For this, she chose the radical option: She just stopped. “It’s not pleasant, but I’m at peace.”
Since then, Hélène has refocused. Gone are the lukewarm friendships and forced reunions. She has surrounded herself with a few solid, reliable people, with whom she can speak simply and listen sincerely. “I’ve become exigent.” This is not elitism, it’s lifestyle hygiene.
Even if it can leave an aftertaste. She sometimes thinks back about those she left out. “But I have no regrets.”
When, how and why break off a friendship?
In French monthly Philosophie Magazine, essayist Sonia Feertchak reflects on breaking up with friends. Why break up? Sometimes, it’s neither a tragedy nor a conflict. Just a need for coherence, for truth. She speaks of a quest for authenticity: “To be fully oneself in the mirror held up by the other.”
Philosopher Claire Marin puts it differently, but just as clearly: “I detach myself from the other to finally be me.” Some people choose to stop betraying themselves simply to preserve a bond that has become too far removed from the self.
Then how do you break up? In love, it’s considered more respectful to say things, to bring things to a verbal close. In friendship, it’s often the opposite. We’re afraid of hurting someone. So we keep quiet. We distance ourselves. We become a ghost.
I now reinvest in those who nourish me.
Mathieu chose this gentle, quiet way out, without a fuss. Since he left his professional career, he simply ceased to maintain some relationships. Not out of hostility but out of clarity.
“I now reinvest in those who nourish me,” says Mathieu, who takes time with his close friends: exhibitions, long-lasting cafés, shared weekends. Less dispersion, more intensity. And more room for his grandchildren. A quiet refocusing. A silent, but deliberate sorting.
But when is the right time to break up? All the testimonials we’ve received agree on one thing: when it all becomes too burdensome. Or simply pointless. When you no longer know why you’re sticking around. When the relationship tires you more than it supports you. And you don’t want to waste any more time.
Silent reconnections
There are also those friendships that, on the contrary, you want to stay attached to. The ones that freeze without breaking, haunting you in silence. Marc experienced one of these. After his divorce, a precious friendship faded away. Eight years without news. No calls, no messages. He sometimes thought about it. He even dreamed about it. But out of pride, he never got back in touch. One day, their new spouses bumped into each other. Then they met again. They reconnected. Without a word about the silence. And no desire to talk about it.
Vincent didn’t leave it to chance. He put his pride aside. When his mother fell seriously ill, he looked after her for months. His best friend, who used to be so close, wasn’t there. Vincent thought he’d never speak to him again. But then he chose to confront him. He realized that his friend didn’t know how to behave: He was embarrassed, paralyzed by the fear of doing something wrong. That day, Vincent decided not to break up. He reached out.
“The more you are aware of these things, the more you enjoy life,” Serge Guérin points out. Some friendships deserve to be nurtured. Continued.
At the end of the day, after 60 years, friendship becomes more exigent, because it’s based on equality and reciprocity. But it also becomes more precious. The testimonials tell of a quest for authenticity, a need for real ties. And sometimes, new bonds arise. Gentler, lighter, without excessive expectations. Just the pleasure of being together.
*All names have been changed.
