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As a teenager, I put all of my black clothes in two drawers because they didn鈥檛 fit into one. My friend Polly correctly pointed out this strategy was stupid鈥攈ow would I find what I needed in the lump of black clothing?

Many years later, following the advice of 鈥渢idying up鈥� expert Marie Kondo, I sat in the middle of tall, mostly drab piles of my clothes. What sparks joy? I asked myself, repeating Kondo鈥檚 trademark question. I held up each piece of clothing for a few seconds and considered what I felt. Sometimes I didn鈥檛 really care about the clothing, other times I felt hungry, but occasionally I felt a bright lift in my mood and at the edges of my mouth.

In the end, I kept six pairs of pants, five skirts, 11 shirts, eight dresses, and five pairs of workout clothes.

To my surprise, I felt lighter.

Usually, I get excited about more clothes, more restaurants, more Instant Pot settings. I choose things from blaring e-commerce ads and food from endless Yelp reviews. Each of these choices weighs me down with the clear message: I don鈥檛 simply have to choose鈥擨 have to choose correctly.

Less choice feels like relief. It鈥檚 a slightly lighter burden each morning, even with a small decision like what to wear.

I wondered whether I could apply this idea of less elsewhere. My enthusiasm for more means I also get excited about the possibility of more friendships and more dating choices. 无码视频 friendships mean less time to focus on each person. 无码视频 dating choices mean I often give each person less of a chance. 无码视频 makes it harder to choose people and easier to leave them.

So, would it be crude to only hang out with people who bring me joy? Could I think about someone and see whether the edges of my mouth lift?

I鈥檝e felt an obligation to keep in touch with my friends, and I鈥檝e sometimes felt pressure to respond to this old co-worker and that friend鈥檚 uncle鈥檚 ex-wife because I鈥檝e assumed that is how we feel connected鈥攂y responding to everyone, by being nice.

I鈥檝e assumed it鈥檚 polite to accept invitations and I consider myself polite. But because of this, I end up in relationships of convenience (she goes to my gym class), routine (I鈥檝e been hanging out with him for a long time), and obligation (I should really see them鈥攖hey鈥檝e been asking to hang out).

When I do see these people, I get caught up in 鈥淗ow have you beens鈥� and 鈥淚t鈥檚 so good to see yous.鈥� I am actually interested in how they鈥檝e been, and it is actually good to see them, but I often leave with a tennis-ball-sized hole in my chest, craving more intimacy.

My Facebook profile shows I have 1,076 friends. But some are people I met briefly 15 years ago and haven鈥檛 spoken to since. I know a lot about a lot of people but sometimes I feel like I鈥檓 lost in the middle of tall piles of mostly drab interactions.

It鈥檇 be nice to tidy up.

I came across research that backs this up鈥攊t shows we can only maintain relationships with a limited set of people. Anthropologist Robin Dunbar discovered this number was about 150鈥攄ubbed This is the number of people a human brain can know based on the size of our brains. Dunbar has shown that this number has held through history and across cultures and shows us the limits of our brains.

One hundred fifty is the average number of Christmas cards people send out, it鈥檚 the  before communication deteriorates, and it鈥檚 the average number of people in a basic military unit, just to use a few examples.

To be fair, this is an impressive limit. With 150 people, you potentially have more than 10,000 relationship pairs to consider. How does each person relate to each of the others and to you? Each relationship is complicated. When we talk to someone, we evaluate their likes and dislikes, their humor, their past and future to choose the right things to say. Knowing and processing data about 150 people is remarkable.

Dunbar then breaks these 150 people into four categories:

• 100 are acquaintances
• 35 are an extended circle of friends
• 10 are close friends
• Five are people who can help you get out of a bind

Of course, these numbers aren鈥檛 exact鈥攖hey are approximations. We each  and the culture that surrounds us. But Dunbar estimates that we seek advice, money, and comfort from three to five people in that closest circle. These are people we can rely on, not necessarily the ones who bring joy.

I started to think about someone in my closest tier: Polly. She鈥檚 sort of joked that I鈥檓 researching social connection for my book but won鈥檛 return her calls. I鈥檓 ashamed to admit that she鈥檚 right. I think of Polly as someone who will always be there. Not that I think she has nothing better to do鈥攕he鈥檚 a radiologist and a mother of two. Woman鈥檚 busy.

But Polly and I go way back. When we were teenagers, we鈥檇 spend a few hours on the phone every day. We both marvel at this. What could we have spent more than 15 minutes talking about? Our lives were staggeringly boring. Sometimes we sat on the phone in silence, while messaging each other on our computers, focused and excited, as if we were on the cusp of eradicating poverty. (We were actually just listening to Weezer.)

When I got into arguments with my parents, Polly would explain my side to them. In the least suspenseful run-away-from-home story ever, I left to go to Polly鈥檚 house, but much to my dismay, I alarmed no one. My parents didn鈥檛 call because they knew where I鈥檇 go.

But Polly鈥檚 got kids now. A husband. A job. We live 2,500 miles apart. She still makes time to call me but sometimes I see my relationship with her as so enduring that I don鈥檛 need to maintain it.

I reason she won鈥檛 take it personally if I don鈥檛 call her back. That friend from the gym might though. So, I talk to Polly once a month, and I spend my social time keeping up with everyone else. I call the gym friend, exchange 鈥淗ow have you beens鈥� and 鈥淚t鈥檚 been so longs鈥� and end the call craving more intimacy. But when I pick up the phone to call Polly, she gives me the connection I search for in the other relationships I keep up with.

Fewer does feel lighter鈥攚ith clothes and people. But joy isn鈥檛 a strong enough metric for choosing friends to spend time with. Polly and I haven鈥檛 sparked joy in every moment of our friendship. We鈥檝e made each other cry and we鈥檝e both said the kind of thing that fills you with nauseous regret the next day.

Regardless of any joy, though, I can still run away to her house and she can still run to mine. She can call me out when I have stupid ideas about closet organization or when I don鈥檛 prioritize one of those five people in my closest circle. The next time I have a choice to answer her call or one from my gym friend, it won鈥檛 be a debate. I鈥檒l choose Polly.