Michelle: Mark, quick question. What do you think is a better predictor of a long life: a perfect diet or a few really good friends? Mark: Oh, come on. My brain says diet, but my heart wants it to be friends. I’m guessing this is a trick question. Michelle: It’s not a trick, but the answer is shocking. A massive meta-analysis found that having a large social network reduces your risk of early death by 45 percent. Mark: Forty-five percent? That’s huge. What about diet and exercise, the things we’re all obsessed with? Michelle: Exercise decreases the risk by about 23 percent. A good diet, a little higher. But neither comes close to the protective power of social connection. We are literally dying of loneliness. Mark: Wow. That completely flips the script on what we think of as "health." Michelle: It absolutely does. And that staggering fact is at the heart of the book we're diving into today: Platonic: How the Science of Attachment Can Help You Make—and Keep—Friends by Dr. Marisa G. Franco. Mark: Dr. Franco, she's a psychologist, right? A professor who specializes in this stuff. Michelle: Exactly. She's a professor at the University of Maryland and a leading expert on connection. And she wrote this book, which became a New York Times bestseller, because she saw this huge cultural blind spot: we have a million books on romantic love, but we're basically illiterate when it comes to the science of friendship. Mark: That’s so true. We assume it should just… happen. Organically. Like a houseplant you forget to water but hope for the best. Michelle: And Franco’s argument is that this passive approach is failing us. Friendship isn't a bonus feature in life; it's the operating system.

Mark: Okay, so why are we so illiterate about it? If it's that crucial for our survival, you'd think we'd be teaching it in schools. Michelle: Well, a big part of it is what Franco calls the cultural devaluation of friendship. We live in a society that puts romantic love on a pedestal. It’s the star of every movie, the subject of every song. Friendship is treated like the quirky, supportive sidekick. Mark: The one who gives the pep talk before the main character goes after their "real" love interest. Michelle: Precisely. And the book has this incredibly moving story that illustrates the cost of that thinking. It’s about a woman named Harriet. When she was in her seventies, her husband Federico passed away. She had spent her life prioritizing her career and her marriage, often letting friendships fade away. Mark: I can see how that happens. Life gets busy. Michelle: It does. But after Federico died, she was adrift in grief. She joined a support group and started therapy, and for the first time, she learned to be truly vulnerable. She started applying that vulnerability to her friendships, and it transformed her life. She reconnected with a college friend, Shirleen, who became, in her words, her "witness." Mark: Her witness. That’s a powerful word. Michelle: Isn't it? Harriet says, "For our life to feel significant, we crave someone to witness it." She found that in friendship. She talks about other widows she knows who just sit at home and watch television, and she says, "They may be alive, but they’re not really living." For Harriet, friendship was the difference between just being alive and truly living. Mark: That's both heartbreaking and so hopeful. It makes me wonder, was it always like this? Did we always put friendship on the back burner? Michelle: That's the fascinating part. Historically, no. Franco brings up the incredible friendship between Abraham Lincoln and Joshua Speed in the 1830s. When Lincoln was a broke young lawyer, Speed let him live above his general store. They shared a bed for four years. Mark: Wait, they shared a bed? Michelle: They did, and it wasn't considered unusual at the time. Their letters to each other are filled with a kind of profound, soul-deep affection that would make most modern men deeply uncomfortable. Lincoln wrote to Speed about his own struggles with depression, and Speed nursed him through a psychotic break. It was an incredibly intimate, life-sustaining bond. Mark: And today, that level of intimacy between two men would be immediately questioned or sexualized. Michelle: Exactly. Franco points out that cultural forces, including homophobia, have drastically shrunk the space for that kind of deep, platonic male love. We’ve become afraid of that level of intimacy in our friendships. Mark: So we've actually gone backward in some ways. We're afraid of the very thing that could save us. That leads to the big question, then. Why are we so afraid? What’s going on inside us?

Michelle: And that fear, that hesitation, is what Dr. Franco argues is rooted in something much deeper, something that starts in our earliest moments: our attachment style. Mark: Okay, 'attachment style.' I've heard this term thrown around, especially in therapy-speak on social media. Break it down for me. What does it actually mean in the context of friendship? Michelle: It’s a theory from psychology that says our earliest bonds with our caregivers create a blueprint for how we relate to people for the rest of our lives. Franco boils it down to three main styles. First, there's Secure attachment. These are people who generally trust others, feel worthy of love, and are comfortable with intimacy. They’re the friend who doesn’t panic if you don’t text back for a day. Mark: The dream friend. Michelle: The dream friend. Then you have Anxious attachment. These folks crave intimacy but are terrified of rejection. They might need constant reassurance, worry that their friends secretly don't like them, and can sometimes come across as 'clingy' because they're trying so hard to secure the connection. Mark: That sounds like a lot of emotional work. I can feel the anxiety just hearing about it. Michelle: It is. And finally, there's Avoidant attachment. These people are the opposite. They value independence above all else. Closeness feels threatening to them, so they keep people at an emotional arm's length. They might be the friend who disappears for weeks, avoids deep conversations, or prides themselves on being completely self-reliant. Mark: This is like a diagnostic tool for your social life! I can already think of people who fit each category, including myself on different days. Can you give an example of how this plays out in a real friendship? Michelle: Absolutely. The book tells the story of a secure doctor named Nick. He moves to a new city and quickly befriends a guy named Lawrence. Soon after, Lawrence announces he’s moving to New York. An anxious person might see this as a pending rejection. An avoidant person might just let the friendship fade. Mark: But Nick is secure. So what does he do? Michelle: He does two things. First, he's proactive. He creates a group chat to keep their friend group connected across the distance. Second, he shows grace. He later finds out that some of Lawrence’s friends were gossiping about him. Instead of getting defensive, he understands they were probably just feeling protective of Lawrence. He gives them the benefit of the doubt. That’s a hallmark of the secure style: assuming positive intent and not taking things personally. Mark: That's the ideal, but let's be real, most of us aren't Nick. The book got some praise for being hopeful, but some critics found it a bit 'saccharine' or overly sweet. What does Franco say we anxious or avoidant types should do? Is the advice just 'be more secure'? Because that’s not very helpful.

Michelle: That's a great point, and it’s a fair criticism to raise. Franco is very clear that it's not about flipping a switch. You can't just decide to be secure. But you can work towards what she calls 'earned security.' Mark: Earned security. I like that. It implies it's something you build, not something you're just born with. Michelle: Exactly. It’s about recognizing your pattern and then taking small, intentional actions to counteract it. For an anxious person, the work might be to pause before sending that fourth "you there??" text and to challenge the assumption that silence equals rejection. Mark: And for the avoidant person? Michelle: Their work is to lean into discomfort. It might mean accepting one more social invitation than they normally would, or sharing one small, vulnerable thing in a conversation instead of keeping it all on the surface. It’s about slowly, safely, proving your old blueprint wrong. Mark: So the theory isn't just a label; it's a roadmap. It tells you where your personal work is. If you're avoidant, your work is to lean in and risk connection. If you're anxious, your work is to lean back and risk trusting the connection is still there. Michelle: Precisely. The core message of Platonic is that friendship isn't magic; it's a set of skills. And like any skill, it requires understanding the mechanics—our attachment style—and then practicing, intentionally. Franco’s big argument is that this work is not just 'nice to have.' It's not a secondary project for after you've found romance and a career. It is fundamental to a flourishing, healthy, and long life. Mark: It’s a powerful reframe. It’s not a secondary relationship; it’s a pillar of our well-being. So for our listeners, maybe the first step isn't to go out and try to make a dozen new friends tomorrow. Maybe it's just to get curious. Which of those styles—secure, anxious, or avoidant—resonates most with you? Michelle: A perfect place to start. The book even has a quiz to help you figure it out. Just that self-awareness can be the beginning of a huge shift. We'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Does one of these attachment styles jump out at you when you think about your own friendships? Let us know. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.