In Jakarta, friendships sparkle like rooftop cocktails—cold, curated, and dangerously easy to consume. You meet someone at an event, you follow each other on Instagram, and suddenly you’re brunching, tagging, and hashtagging like you’ve known each other forever. But beneath the OOTDs and table shots, I started to notice something: the warmth rarely matched the filter.
You see, in this city, everyone wants to be seen. Seen at the right parties, with the right people, sipping the right glass of wine. The friendships?
Sometimes they’re just an accessory—like a trendy bag you carry for the season and quietly replace when a flashier one comes along.
And when it comes to “fake it till you make it,” Jakarta doesn’t flinch. One day, someone’s the subject of whispers and eye-rolls over daily conversation, and the next—after a few glossy wins and well-lit milestones—the same crowd is back, clapping, posting, and calling them bestie again. The pivot is so smooth, it makes you wonder: is this survival? Strategy? Or just plain social acrobatics?
Was this the way the game is played… or am I just too idealistic—too naive—to play along?
And it made me wonder… in a city that never stops performing, how do you know when someone actually means it? When the laughs aren’t just for stories and the check-ins don’t come with a selfie attached?
Maybe that’s why I found myself craving quieter connections—the kind that don’t need a reservation or a repost to feel real. The kind where being low-key isn’t seen as a red flag, but a safe space.
So I had to ask myself: in a city full of curated lives and conditional friendships… is authenticity the rarest luxury of all?
