Why are we experiencing more loneliness?

A man, a dog, some birds, and why I think we all need to talk to more strangers

2025 has started with a cold, classic Canadian winter. I’ve also committed to going into the office more often than staying home, so I spend many weekday mornings bracing the winter winds with my fellow Torontonians. While I’ve embraced remote work in the past, I’ve realized that working from home in the winter speeds up that creeping seasonal depression. This year, I’m craving something more: conversation.

On a particularly bitter Tuesday morning, I was walking from the subway to my office. The wind was whipping my face, and I was moving quickly, eager to escape the cold. At a stoplight, headphones in, I heard the faint barking of a dog, just loud enough to break through my music.

When I looked over, I saw a dog joyfully chasing a flock of birds. It was one of those simple, mundane moments that inexplicably make you smile.

An older man beside me noticed the same scene and said, “He’s chasing the birdies!”

I smiled and nodded, responding politely over the sound of my music: “He sure is!”

He said something else, but the light turned green, and I crossed the street, my headphones still in.

As I rode up the elevator to my office, I reflected on the small, wholesome moment. I realized how my default (keeping my headphones in) snuffed out small opportunities for human connection — the conversation I had been craving.

It made me wonder: Why are we experiencing more loneliness?

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Is loneliness wrapped up in our newfound isolation?

Loneliness is a universal experience. We’ve all felt it, which often motivates us to seek connection. In my life, the loneliest times have pushed me toward creating community. Those lows were the slingshot that propelled me into new friendships and opportunities to socialize.

Then, the COVID-19 pandemic changed everything. Isolation became our default. Zoom replaced classrooms, social events, and casual interactions, such as a conversation in a hallway, ceased to exist. For many, those months of separation fundamentally altered how we engage with others.

I tried to counteract the isolation during that time by hosting virtual events for my school cohort, including a memorable New Year’s Eve gathering in 2021. A small group of us, avoiding in-person celebrations due to another COVID surge, spent the evening in a virtual room, sharing hopes for the year ahead. At that time, virtual opportunities aimed to simulate in-person ones as closely as possible, almost as if they were designed to “tide us over” during social distancing.

In 2025, however, the pandemic has fundamentally solidified a digital-first lifestyle in many areas: education, remote work, and building communities around shared interests.

When vaccines rolled out, life began to return to “normal.” For some, the transition back to in-person connection was seamless, as specific jobs, classes, and activities quickly shifted from virtual to in-person. However, many aspects of education and corporate life were slower to make the same shift.

I had a somewhat skewed experience. In my business school, most students were eager to return to in-person learning and socializing. We could hang out and reconnect, like the days before we had to shove an abnormally large Q-tip up our nostrils.

For others, though, the pandemic permanently shifted their habits. Online communities became their new ‘third place,’ and many chose to stay there.

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What is a ‘third place’?

Dr. Ray Oldenburg, an urban sociologist and author of The Great Good Place, coined the concept of a “third place.”

Third places are public spaces beyond home (your first place) and work (your second place). They are places where people can gather, connect, and interact. Libraries, coffee shops, parks, and even a local restaurant are considered “third places.” 

While researching for this piece, I stumbled upon a post from 2008 on the Project for Public Spaces site. Strangely, I found reading it comforting, even though it’s now 17 years old. It perfectly captures something that has significantly diminished in our communities as of 2025:

In contrast to first places (home) and second places (work), third places allow people to put aside their concerns and enjoy the company and conversation around them. Third places “host the regular, voluntary, informal, and happily anticipated gatherings of individuals beyond the realms of home and work.” Oldenburg explains that beer gardens, main streets, pubs, cafés, coffeehouses, post offices, and other third places are the heart of a community’s social vitality. Providing the foundation for a functioning democracy, these spaces promote social equity by levelling the status of guests, providing a setting for grassroots politics, creating habits of public association, and offering psychological support to individuals and communities.

Third places are vital. They’re where people can engage in spontaneous conversations and build community.

Today, finding authentic third places feels increasingly difficult. Places that offer organized opportunities for connection, like exclusive social clubs, are often out of reach for many due to their high costs.

More affordable options, such as libraries and coffee shops, often lack the key aspects of a third space, such as “voluntary” or “informal” gatherings. These spaces tend to be filled with people working independently on their laptops with headphones in.

I’m not trying to criticize the “laptop tappers.” I’m one of them (even as I write this!) But it makes me wonder: why is a coffee shop the only place I find closest to fitting the definition of a third place? It’s ironic, given that coffee shops have essentially become an extension of place #2 (work) due to the remote or hybrid approach of many workplaces.

My decision to start this Substack and reflect on these questions stems from a desire to spark meaningful conversations. Perhaps it’s an attempt to create a kind of third place online or to use this content to foster more intentional, in-person connections.

But can an online space be a third place? A third place is meant to bring together people with diverse backgrounds, perspectives, and experiences, which feels at odds with the curated algorithms of online platforms, designed to reflect our preferences and desires rather than challenge them.

When you can experience a sense of community with like-minded people from the comfort of your bed, thanks to the convenience and curation of online platforms, does an in-person third place still hold any appeal?

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If we build it, will they come?

I earned two university degrees (one in business and the other in health sciences), which gave me unique insights into how systems shape our well-being and influence decision-making, especially at the intersection of people, communities, and connections.

When I first started reflecting on the concept of third places, I wondered: Is the issue that they’re simply disappearing? Or is it that we’ve forgotten about them? Would more people gather at libraries if hanging out in free, public spaces was seen as “cool”?

Or maybe the solution is more straightforward: organizing more opportunities to bring people together for casual conversations and connections. But then I started asking an even deeper question: Do people want casual discussions anymore, especially with strangers?

While that idea in isolation may sound odd or uncomfortable, these serendipitous conversations can increase our sense of belonging and community. Discomfort, after all, is something we can avoid in today’s world, but should we? I’d argue no.

As someone who often takes on the role of host, I’ve seen firsthand how awkward interactions can evolve into deeper connections as friendships blossom out of random conversations.

But as the internet becomes more curated to our wants, needs, and values and becomes constantly accessible, will we slowly continue to filter out the desire or ability to tolerate the awkwardness of chit-chat with someone new or different?

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A few final thoughts

This isn’t a doomsday reflection of “the internet has ruined everything” but an invitation to pause and think: Why don’t we go to third places anymore?

• Is it because they aren’t accessible, affordable, or even available nearby?

• Is it because many of us have found an alternative online? In this curated, controlled space where we consume content tailored to our preferences, our new third place?

• Is it because we’re too burnt out to socialize beyond our immediate circles or coworkers, making casual conversations exhausting?

I’d love to hear your thoughts as we collectively imagine ways to create a more connected, less lonely world.

Is it as simple as taking our headphones out once in a while? Or is it about advocating for more accessible, affordable third places that would provide us the opportunity to step out of our comfort zones and interact with others?

Can our systems support us better for success? Absolutely. Are there ways we can take on an individual level to make us all feel a bit more connected in person? I think so.

So, let’s try.