Three friends laughing together during a seated stretch in a sunlit yoga studio, a real-life way to connect offline

It is 11:40 on a Tuesday night. You had a rough day, nobody you know is awake, and there is a chat window on your phone that will answer instantly, never sigh, never get tired, and never say "can we talk tomorrow?"

For a growing number of people, that chat window is a companion. And it is easy to see why. It is available, endlessly patient, and very good at sounding like it cares.

So the question researchers have spent the past year asking is a fair one: does it actually help with loneliness? The answer, across several new studies, is a careful, consistent "a little, for a moment, and not the way a person does." That is useful to know, because it points straight at what does work.

What AI companions do well (and why people use them)

Let's give the technology its due first. Nobody turns to a chatbot because they are foolish. They turn to it because it is frictionless.

A bot does not need you to find a time that works. It does not judge a 2 a.m. spiral. It is always warm, always interested, and always on topic: you. Researchers who have analyzed real conversations keep finding the same thing. In a Stanford study published in Nature Human Behavior that surveyed 1,131 Character.AI users, more than half described the bots as a friend, companion, or romantic partner, and over 80% of the chat sessions centered on seeking emotional or social support.

And in the short term, it can genuinely feel better. Work reported by the researchers behind the studies below found that texting a supportive bot lifted people's mood right after the conversation. That relief is real. It just turns out not to be the same thing as belonging.

Study one: a random human beat a perfectly empathetic bot

The cleanest test so far comes from a team led by Elizabeth Dunn's lab. In a two-week experiment reported in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 296 first-semester university students were split into three groups. One group simply journaled a sentence a day. One texted a randomly assigned fellow student. One texted a chatbot named Sam, built to be supportive, validating, and a good listener.

The results are worth sitting with:

Here is the twist. The text analysis showed the bot was actually more empathetic and engaged than the human peers. It said the right things more often. And it still did not move the needle on loneliness.

The researchers suspect part of the reason is that connection is a two-way street. People expressed far less empathy toward the bot than they did toward each other, and giving care, not only receiving it, seems to be part of how a bond forms. A bot cannot be someone you look out for.

There was another difference that is easy to miss. Human peers can offer what the study calls social capital: an invitation to a study group, a heads up about an event, a "come with us." About a third of the human pairs swapped contact information. Very few chatbot users kept talking to Sam once the study ended.

One honest caveat: the human pairs met briefly in person before they started texting, and most participants were only mildly lonely to begin with. The finding applies most clearly to ordinary disconnection during a big life transition, like starting college or moving to a new city. Which, for a lot of adults, is a pretty good description of Tuesday.

Study two: the loop that can keep you stuck

A second study looks at what happens over a longer stretch. Researchers Dunigan Folk and Elizabeth Dunn followed 2,149 adults in the UK, US, Canada, and Australia for 12 months, publishing in Psychological Science. About a quarter to a third of participants used chatbots for social purposes at any given point.

What they found was a pattern that looks like a loop:

  1. People who felt more emotionally isolated were more likely to use social chatbots four months later.
  2. People who used chatbots more tended to feel more emotionally isolated at the next check-in.

The authors are careful here, and so should we be. This was observational, based on self-reports, and the researchers themselves describe the analyses as exploratory and urge caution about strong conclusions. It does not prove that chatbots cause loneliness. It is just as consistent with lonely people reaching for the easiest comfort available.

But the shape of it is the point. If a tool is easier than reaching out to a person, and it feels good enough to take the edge off, it can quietly become the thing that keeps you from the harder, better thing.

Study three: who is most affected

The Stanford work, led out of Diyi Yang's lab and published this summer, adds an important detail about who is affected. Intense chatbot use was linked to lower well-being mainly among people who had smaller offline social networks, and the link was strongest when companionship was the goal.

In other words, the people leaning hardest on a bot for connection were often the same people with the fewest humans to lean on. As Yang put it, using chatbots this way "doesn't substitute for human connection." Co-author Dora Zhao pointed out that these products are designed to promote engagement, which is a different goal than helping you build a life with people in it.

That is not a reason to shame anyone who uses an AI companion. It is a reason to ask what would make the human option easier.

Why the human option feels harder (and what's really going on)

If a bot is not the fix, why do so many of us reach for it? Because for most adults, finding people is genuinely hard right now.

We have lost a lot of the places where friendship used to happen by accident. We covered this in the third place crisis: the coffee shops, clubs, and corners where you ran into the same faces week after week have thinned out. We have also stopped hosting each other at home, which removed one more low-stakes way to spend time together. And the friendship cliff in our late twenties means the built-in social structure of school quietly disappears right when we need to build our own.

Add in a very human fear of rejection, and the math is easy. Texting a bot has zero risk of being left on read. Inviting a person has some. The research above suggests that small risk is exactly where the payoff lives.

The scale of the problem is not small either. The World Health Organization estimates that 1 in 6 people worldwide is lonely, which means if you feel this way, you are in enormous company. You just may not know it yet, because everyone else is quietly typing to a screen too.

What to do instead: a small, human routine

The good news buried in these studies is how modest the effective ingredient is. The students who got less lonely were not in a therapy program or a retreat. They texted a near-stranger, once a day, with the aim of one real message. That is it.

So here is a practical version for the rest of us.

1. Use the bot as a bridge, not a destination

If a chatbot helps you get words onto the page when you are overwhelmed, that is fine. Moderate, purposeful use looks reasonable in the research. The line to watch is replacement. Ask yourself after a chat: do I feel more ready to reach out to someone, or less? Let that be your guide.

2. Make one small human contact a day

It does not need to be deep. Reply to a friend's story. Send the "saw this and thought of you" text. Comment on a coworker's weekend. These tiny exchanges are the weak ties we described in our piece on fringeships, and they add up to a surprising amount of belonging.

3. Move at least one of them offline each week

Text builds familiarity. Time in person builds friendship. Pick one low-pressure, time-boxed plan: a coffee, a walk, a pickup game, a movie. The activity does the heavy lifting so the conversation does not have to.

4. Ask to join, not just to be invited

You do not need to be the planner. As we explored in why asking "can I come too?" works better than you think, most people are happy to include someone who asks, and it takes the pressure of hosting off both sides.

5. Be the one who offers care, too

The Dunn lab's hunch about giving as well as receiving is worth acting on. Check in on someone. Remember something they told you. Bring the snacks. Being useful to another person is one of the fastest routes from acquaintance to friend.

Where Let's fits

Everything above comes back to one stubborn gap: wanting something to do, and not knowing who to do it with.

That is the exact problem Let's, the IRL app, was built around. Instead of swiping on faces, you post what you actually want to do, whether that is golf, coffee, pickleball, or a movie tonight, and people nearby ask to join. You, as the host, approve who comes. Hosts are ID verified, and locations stay approximate until you approve someone, so a first meeting feels safe, not stressful. If you would rather keep things to your own circle, there is a private mode for planning with friends you already have.

It is the human option, minus the friction that sends so many of us to the chat window at midnight. You can browse what is happening near you and ask to join in about the time it takes to open a chatbot.

The hopeful part

It is worth ending where the research ends, because it is better news than the headlines suggest.

The studies do not say technology is the enemy or that you are broken for being lonely. They say something simpler and more encouraging: the thing that eases loneliness is other people, and it does not take much. A single message to a real person beat a bot that said all the right things. A small routine, repeated, beat a perfect listener that was always available.

That means the fix is within reach, and it starts small. Tonight's chat can be a text to a friend. This weekend's plan can be a coffee you ask to join. Over time, a thin network becomes a thick one, one ordinary invitation at a time.

If you are ready for the first one, download Let's, find something that sounds good, and ask to come. Somebody nearby is hoping you will.