Essay Link Copied 10.18.24

Adult Playdates Are the Secret to Happiness

Here's how it changed my friendships—and my life—for the better. ByJemma Sbeg

Shutterstock / Wondermind

When was the last time you felt completely happy and carefree? A year ago when I tried to answer this question, I couldn’t even remember. 

Surely there had to be something? As I ran through my recent memories, I encountered a scary realization: The only time I ever saw my friends was when we were grabbing dinner or drinking. Sure, there was the occasional movie or picnic, but it felt like the space for play and being unproductively social within my adult friendships had been filled up by more pressing things. 

I have the fondest memories of growing up in Queensland, Australia. I think about running down to the creek bed with my cousins to make mud patties, playing tag through the bush in my grandparents backyard with my friends, the treehouse where we would play house and take turns pretending to come home from work. The hours would swim past us without a single thought in our brains other than, Must have more fun. It was delightful. 

There is this developmental and social shift that occurs when we enter life stages that are no longer effortlessly social. Maybe it was when you became a teenager and “playing” morphed into “hanging out.” Or maybe it hit in your early 20s, when life became restricted by responsibilities. As we grow up, we get busier, burned out, and stressed.

At least, that was my experience. Up until recently, my adult friendships had become the social equivalent of a microwave meal: convenient, minimal effort, and satisfying enough. They lacked the depth and nourishment of true connection.

Even though I was efficiently checking my friendship to-do list, I was lonely. I’d see a friend a couple times a week, check in via text or DM, and grab dinner once a fortnight. Still, I wasn’t having the kind of meaningful experiences that make lifelong memories. Most of our time together was centred on crossing the catch up off of our agenda.

So I decided to do an experiment. For two weeks, there would be no dinners, no drinks, no hangouts watching TV—only adult playdates. The activities would have to be something we could do together. It had to be A) fun, B) unproductive, C) engaging, and D) require some mental commitment. The fine print: The playdate could not involve alcohol, it could not be described as a chore (like running errands together), and it could not be something we would be doing otherwise (like going to the gym). 

So I made a list of 15 things I loved doing with my friends as a child. That included playing tag, making bracelets, Legos, Wii sports, going to the trampoline park, tennis, playing in the ocean, baking, game nights, and scavenger hunts. 

Notably, these did need some modernizing and maturing. If I invited my friends to come play mermaids on a Wednesday night after they’d worked a 12-hour shift in the intensive care unit or had been in court all day, they would not be enticed. So, I tweaked my bucket list of activities to be less time and energy consuming—then I started reaching out. 

While my guidelines were clear, I didn’t call it a playdate out loud. There was a part of this that felt embarrassing, and I didn’t want any awkwardness to overshadow the point of pointless fun. 

I began with my friend Steph. I asked if she wanted to go to the zoo on Saturday instead of doing drinks. She said yes! The next week, I invited my friends Kate and Phoebe to stay in on a Saturday and make clay figurines while watching childhood movies. Then, rather than going out for dinner, I did a Lego set with my boyfriend.

The list goes on: I hosted a big game night with some of my closest friends. I played tag with my adult cousins who were visiting. I planned long group hikes without our phones. Those two weeks of exploring, imagining, creating, and, of course, playing went fast.

But I did encounter some snags in my grand plan to transform my friendships and to not feel lonely. There were certain people I didn’t feel comfortable asking to play in this way: work friends, new friends, acquaintances. Maybe it’s just me, but I needed a level of pre-existing intimacy for this kind of interaction to work its magic. Playdates based on a joint fun activity just went more smoothly with people I already knew well and trusted. 

There were still a few people who looked at me a bit funny. I could tell they were thinking, You want to do what with me? But, even with those moments of awkwardness, dedicating off-hours time to group play enabled me to recapture the joy that comes from pointless fun with friends. 

If this particular brand of happiness sounds like something that’s missing in your life, here are a few reasons why I think you should add more playdates to your calendar. 

It makes mindfulness more fun.

Being playful put me in touch with a part of myself I’d forgotten, the part of me that was allowed to detach and just be present. I found myself locked in a flow state, consumed by the activity and my friends' company, not noticing the hours go by. 

The activities also unlocked more of my senses. There were new sights, new smells, and new sensations. I was using my hands in ways other than typing at a computer. And I felt so present molding something out of clay, building things, painting, being in nature, and laughing and talking with friends.  

Yes, play can seem like a waste of time, silly, or unproductive. But that’s the whole point. So much about our adult lives is outcome oriented. Riding your bike to get somewhere, cooking to feed yourself, grabbing drinks with coworkers to network. But play is a way of deliberately bringing about joy, without that joy being attached to some specific goal. It’s fun for the sake of fun.

What’s more human than doing something for pure pleasure and enjoyment, alongside those we care about? 

It’s made me rethink what friendship looks like.

I have fun, sacred memories of running around as a child, playing with friends and family. But I was also incredibly isolated as a kid. I experienced bullying for a lot of my childhood, ate lunch in the library, would wander around the playground looking for someone to play with and hoping no one noticed how lonely I looked. 

There was a group of girls I desperately wanted to be friends with. They played Harry Potter at lunchtime, but they would only invite me to be Voldemort, the villain, and to chase them around. They would steal my bag, hide my lunch, and exclude me. 

I still remember how much that stung. As an adult, that experience left me terrified of being ostracised. So I’d pack my schedule with plans every night I could. I collected friends like prizes because I thought it would protect me. In that process, I forgot that the quality of our friends and the time we spend with them matters too.

By embracing play in adulthood, I feel like I’ve healed that childhood version of me. I let her be seen, slow down, connect, and have the experiences that were out of reach. Because of that, I could stop panicking about the state of my relationships, quit collecting, and just be. 

Play brought me outside.

When I started organizing adult playdates, those activities took place outdoors in nature more often than not. It sounds so silly but sometimes the secret to happiness is just reminding yourself of things you’ve known all along, like that spending time outside feels good! I could think more clearly and I felt less anxious at the end of the day. It also seemed like I had more hours in my week because I was changing up my environment all the time. 

Being out in the fresh air had an incredibly positive impact on my mental health. It got me excited to be active with my friends, rather than scrolling alone and sending my friends funny TikToks. 

It’s deepened my friendships.

Suggesting activities rather than just catch ups or coffee became the new status quo for me and my friends—and it changed our relationships for the better. One day I was sitting at the beach with my friend Kate, who I’ve known since I was 17. We were playing a card game after swimming in the ocean, sharing stories back and forth that neither of us had heard before. I looked at her and realized that, in all this time, we’d never gotten this deep. We were sharing core memories, foundational parts of who we were. Because we were spending time in an imaginative, creative, and active way, it got us thinking outside the box. It resurfaced old memories, as if our brains were suddenly flooded with a new energy that re-enlightened old parts of ourselves. 

Suddenly, my friendships took on a whole new color. There was more laughter, vulnerability, intimacy, and more connection. Who would have thought that after all this time, playing with friends had created the adult friendships I’d always dreamed of?