Welcome to the Era of Predictable Comfort
In a world still reeling from pandemics, layoffs, algorithmic doomscrolling, and the existential dread of AI, Friends feels like a warm, slightly dysfunctional hug. You know every beat. You know every line. You know Ross will mess it up. You know Monica will clean it up. And when the world feels unhinged, that kind of narrative stability is simply therapeutic.
It’s not just comfort. Its structure. It’s a ritual. It’s knowing that at exactly 8 minutes in, there’ll be a cutaway joke. That by the 18-minute mark, Chandler will have said something self-deprecating, and Phoebe will sing something entirely unhinged. It’s order. And in 2025, order is sexy.
Gen Z and Gen Alpha Want In-Person Friendships
The plot twist? It’s not just Millennials rewatching Friends with a bowl of cereal and a weighted blanket. Gen Z and even Gen Alpha are in on it. In a digital-first world of text chains and disappearing snaps, Friends offers a version of friendship that’s rooted in physical space. Hanging out. Talking. Drinking coffee that doesn’t cost 8$.
Lisa Kudrow recently stated in an interview that the show succeeds because it portrays genuine, in-person relationships. Something that young audiences are deeply craving. They don’t just want followers. They want couches.
The Anti-Prestige Appeal
Prestige TV is great. We love dragons and dark timelines. But sometimes you just want a show where the stakes are: "Did Joey eat my sandwich?" Friends does not try to be smarter than you. It doesn’t need lore. It doesn’t demand that you solve mysteries across eight Reddit threads. It just wants you to feel okay.
That simplicity? It’s revolutionary. And it’s also why the show continues to thrive. Not because it’s flawless. But because it knows exactly what it is: six attractive idiots making each other laugh. That’s not nothing.
The Rerun as Ritual
Rewatching Friends isn’t just entertainment. It’s self-care. It’s a ritual. You queue up an episode not because you’re dying to know what happens next, but because you already know. It’s the TV equivalent of comfort food. You don’t eat mac and cheese because it’s surprising. You eat it because it’s dependable.
And in 2025, dependability is gold.
Yes, It’s Problematic. And Yes, People Still Love It.
Nobody is pretending Friends is perfect. The internet has already made entire careers out of dissecting its flaws. But people aren’t watching Friends because it’s a progressive manifesto. They’re watching it because it allows them to take a break from their thoughts for a bit. Because it’s one of the few shows that doesn’t make them feel worse after watching.
That doesn’t mean we can’t critique it. It just means we’re choosing joy over judgment sometimes. And that’s okay, too.
Final Thoughts: The Couch Still Works
Friends in 2025 is less about the jokes and more about the vibe. It’s the background music of our collective anxiety. It’s the reset we hit between doomscrolls. It’s the proof that sometimes, the most revolutionary thing a show can do is make you feel safe.
So the next time you find yourself watching The One with All the Thanksgivings for the 14th time, don’t feel guilty. You’re not stuck in the past.
You’re healing.
