In the United States, eating alone has become more than just a common occurrence—it’s a quiet but telling shift in how people live, relate, and connect with one another. What was once a social ritual has, for many, become a solitary act. According to the World Happiness Report 2025, the ideal number of shared meals per week is thirteen. In reality, Americans average fewer than eight. Among young adults aged 18 to 24, one in four reported eating all three meals alone on at least one day in 2023—a figure that has doubled in the last two decades.
This trend isn’t merely the result of personal preference or busy schedules. It’s the product of fragmented routines, shrinking living spaces, and above all, the ubiquity of smartphones. For many, meals are no longer moments of togetherness, but quick, isolated pauses in the day, often spent scrolling in silence—even when surrounded by others.
What makes this pattern concerning is its tangible impact on well-being. Researchers now consider the number of meals shared with others to be as predictive of mental health as income or employment status. And it doesn’t just affect people who live alone. Even within families, shared meals are becoming rare, as everyone eats according to their own schedule, often behind closed doors. Over time, this shifts the architecture of social life.
In just a few decades, the communal meal has gone from daily norm to quiet exception. On college campuses across the country, it’s no longer unusual to walk into a dining hall, sit down, pull out a phone, and eat in silence. Not out of discomfort or social anxiety, but because it has simply become the default. That’s just how it’s done now. And in the process, opportunities for connection slip away, one meal at a time.
This didn’t happen overnight. Back in the early 2000s, sociologist Robert Putnam was already warning of a fraying social fabric. But it’s the explosion of mobile devices and the rise of remote work that have further diminished the chances to share a table. Even cohabiting no longer guarantees that people will eat together. Meals are squeezed in, whenever and wherever.
And yet, the benefits of eating with others remain clear. Those who regularly share meals report higher life satisfaction, greater trust in others, and lower levels of anxiety and depression. That’s why some universities have started experimenting with “no phone” tables in campus dining halls—designated spots where students are encouraged to unplug and strike up a conversation. At home, a few have begun keeping phones out of the kitchen, not out of nostalgia or moralizing, but simply to reclaim a space for human exchange.
This isn’t about romanticizing the past. It’s about recognizing the value of something simple: a shared meal. Eating together isn’t just about food—it’s about being seen, being heard, being part of something. Eating alone, from time to time, is perfectly fine. But when it becomes the norm, it can quietly signal a deeper fracture. And perhaps, in a hyper-connected world, the most radical gesture is this: to sit at a table, phone down, eyes up, and eat with someone else
