The rise of social media, disappearing third spaces, displeasure with dating apps: in 2026, there are plenty of possible culprits when it comes to loneliness.
But what makes people feel connected and cared for? Below are six stories about the gestures that made Guardian readers feel less lonely.
‘Two personally selected bread rolls’
Since 2019, I’ve had a run of hard luck, with relationships ending and a chronic illness. I live alone and now work from home, but do keep somewhat active, seeing friends for walks at the weekend. But seeing others’ lives move on, when I appear to be moving down a different trajectory, has been painful.
But this brings me to the kindness that I’ve experienced on my doorstep. Almost every Saturday since the first Covid lockdown, my neighbour has left me two bread rolls for my breakfast. She buys these for me while she is out early, before the shops get busy, to buy the weekly food for her family. Each Saturday, she leaves a small brown paper bag on my doorstep, containing two personally selected bread rolls for me, and lets me know they are there by a message on WhatsApp when she wishes me good morning.
Through all the challenges in my own and her life, she continues this generous gesture. It has acted as an anchor for me. Just receiving her messages alone are enough, in fact. That someone so busy, with their own life and responsibilities, continues to think of me has meant everything. Liz, Berlin
‘She sent me a message out of the blue’
I’m 45. I thought by this point in my life, I’d be surrounded by friends and be in touch with lots of people. But I’ve actually found the opposite to be true of middle age. The world that we live in at the moment doesn’t exactly promote community.
We are going through some difficult things with our daughter, who doesn’t go to school and is very anxious. We’ve been trying to get help for her, which is a lonely process. But when you have a child who isn’t doing playdates and going to school, friends drop off because they don’t understand. There’s often some judgment there, even if they don’t mean to.
I felt particularly lonely on Mother’s Day this year. Mother’s Day always tugs at the heartstrings when you’re a mum, and my husband was away. Then my sister-in-law, whom I don’t speak to that often but I really like, sent me a message out of the blue, saying: well done, you’re doing a great job. It was exactly what I needed to hear. It was like she’d read my mind and knew exactly what to say.
Often people don’t know what to say to you when you’re going through something hard, so they just don’t say anything. But actually anything really is better than nothing. So often we forget to say the simple things that mean the most. Rebecca, south-west England
‘They ended up staying for about three hours’
When my marriage ended, I had to relocate to the North Yorkshire moors. It was the beginning of an isolating decade. After leaving work on a Friday night, the next people I would speak to would be the same colleagues on Monday morning.
In one bar job I had, a couple from London popped in for a drink on a holiday. Their intention was to come in for one drink, but they ended up staying for about three hours. We had a lovely chat and a connection was formed.
Soon after, they invited me to spend time with them on days out around London, and meeting their friends. This new friend and his partner have been a constant in that 10 years. We have lots to talk about every time we see one another, and we message weekly on WhatsApp. It’s just a shame we don’t see each other as much these days, but I’m trying to put that right by visiting them again soon. Tony, Yorkshire
‘That random invitation led to some of the best people’
I had just moved to Bristol from Australia on my own, with absolutely no plan. I hadn’t found a job or any solid friends yet, and was feeling miserable. It was strange being in my late 20s and starting all over again.
It was the beginning of summer and I spent my time exploring, going for walks, reading topless in the park, which I’d heard was a UK rite of passage. But I still craved that extra connection. I was on the dating apps, and although I hadn’t had much luck, I got chatting to one guy. There wasn’t really a spark, but he impulsively invited me to a barbecue in the park with about 15 of his friends.
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Fighting the anxiety, I downed a lager before heading to Victoria Park the following day, sausages in tow. None of them actually expected me to show up. But somehow I had the best day, which turned into night, then into another day with the same group. Without that random invitation, I wouldn’t have met some of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling friends. Most of us live in the same area so we call ourselves the “BS3 gays”. The date didn’t lead to anything romantic, and it was never meant to, but it turned out to be far more valuable. Jack, Bristol
‘They comforted me in the way Irish people do best’
I was in Tanzania on field work for a few months. Before I went, my girlfriend and I had bought a farm together. We were going to move into it when we got back (she was doing field work in Kenya). I envisioned the life stretching out in front me: children, a garden, her, cigarettes on the porch.
Then, a few weeks before we were due back to Europe, she came to the conclusion that she did not in fact want all that – or a future with me at all. And there I was, alone in a steaming hot hostel room in Dar es Salaam. I spent some days in a strange dizzy trance. All I had planned was gone, and I had no one to turn to.
Eventually, I realised I had to get out of bed. I texted the few people I knew in the city, including two Irish girls I had met a few weeks earlier. And they embraced me and comforted me in the way Irish people do best: they took me on a hell of a bender. We went to a Mexican place where they gave us sombreros and tequila, and then on out into the night. We talked and talked, and drank and danced, and talked. And when I woke up the next day, heavy-headed, everything felt lighter from the realisation that I would not have to carry it all alone, and from having glimpsed for the first time that there would be a life after all this. Kate and Shauna: thank you. Lars, Malmö, Sweden
‘He had sneakily found out my flight times’
I split up with the father of my son after a 16-year relationship in 2022. Since then, I’ve faced Christmases, New Year’s celebrations and holidays on my own. When I travelled around in Japan alone last summer, I had a marvellous time, but dreaded the moment I would walk through the arrivals gate alone, with no one there to welcome me back. When the potentially painful moment arrived, I passed all the welcome committees as quickly as possible with my head held high – and much to my surprise, I saw someone running up to me from the corner of my eye.
It was my male best friend – since adolescence – who made an effort to be there. He had sneakily found out my flight times and clearly understood that coming home on my own could feel lonely. I still treasure that moment, and him as a person, for the emotional support he offered, without me asking for it.
Friends who are so good at anticipating emotionally tough moments truly make you feel less lonely. I can only hope for all brave single people that they have friends that are so in-tune with the support they might lack and need. Helen, Amsterdam
