Finding people in a screen-first world
Sarah Fournier is the new Creative Director of magazines for The Lindsay Advocate, Kawartha Social, and Play Stay Live. She’s also a Creative Director/Partner at Colour and Code, a marketing, website, and design agency in Lindsay.
February has a way of putting relationships under the spotlight. Valentine’s Day arrives with its roses and prix-fixe menus, and suddenly, connection becomes something you either have or you don’t.
But most of the relationships that shape our lives don’t begin with grand gestures or carefully worded messages. They begin quietly, slowly, and often unintentionally.
In this digital-first world, we have fewer natural spaces to connect with others. People are working remotely, students attend school online, and social interactions are increasingly filtered through screens. The rooms where relationships used to form — classrooms, offices, shared routines — have thinned out.
It’s no surprise, then, that we’re seeing new forms of connection emerge. This issue of the Advocate explores the rise of AI companions, and while that conversation is complex, it points to something very human: people are looking for connection, wherever and however they can find it. When traditional pathways feel out of reach, alternatives step in.
I got married before dating apps were the default, but I’ve noticed that while these can introduce people, they struggle to replace the experience of meeting someone organically with no pressure of defining anything. And even though so much of modern connection relies on them, they can’t replace familiarity, shared context, or the comfort that builds when you see the same faces week after week.
That same dynamic applies to friendships. Adult relationships rarely come from trying to “make friends.” They come from proximity and repetition. From doing something alongside others and letting connection emerge naturally.
I was reminded of this when I finally joined a Masters swim team. I hesitated for months, convinced I wouldn’t belong or wouldn’t be good enough. But once I showed up, it was clear from the start that these were my people. Everyone was there for the same reason: our love of swimming. We weren’t trying to impress one another; we were simply sharing the same space and the same passion at the same time.
That’s how many meaningful relationships start, romantic or otherwise. Not through optimization or performance, but through shared experience. Sports teams, art classes, book clubs, or any place where people gather around something they care about can be an opportunity for meaningful connection.
Sure, technology can help us feel less alone. But it can’t replace something that grows when the conditions are right. When people are present, the phones are put away, and the connection is allowed to unfold naturally.
