When F.R.I.E.N.D.S Don’t Age Well: Outgrowing a Sitcom That Once Felt Like Home

Image Source

In my teens, F.R.I.E.N.D.S was more than a television show. It was a warm, familiar escape that aired like clockwork on cable (remember Star World and Zee Cafe?), the background hum to my after-school evenings. I didn’t just watch it - I inhaled it. The theme song was practically a mantra, and the six characters felt like companions who made adulthood seem whimsical and liberating. For a teenager growing up in India, F.R.I.E.N.D.S was my first real peek into Western television, a world where twenty-somethings lived in quirky apartments, drank endless coffee, and navigated love and life with a certain lightness that was irresistible. After Sidney Sheldon's books, this is what opened my mind to the "real" world.

Back then, I laughed without thinking too hard. Joey’s cluelessness, Monica’s competitiveness, Ross' quirks, Pheobe's randomness, Rachel's evolution, Chandler’s sarcasm; they all made me giggle, maybe because they mirrored exaggerated versions of traits I saw in myself and the people I called my friends. The show taught me idioms, cultural references, and how relationships could be messy but still funny. I didn’t question why Rachel was so selfish, why Ross was so insecure, or why Monica’s weight was always an issue. I just enjoyed the flow. I was too young to notice the cracks beneath the surface.

Over the years, as I grew and my world expanded, the rose-tinted lens through which I had once viewed F.R.I.E.N.D.S began to fade. Watching reruns now, I find myself cringing at the jokes I once laughed at. The show hasn't changed, I have. With maturity comes a new filter, one that sees how layered and problematic the writing can be. Suddenly, the things that used to seem funny now feel off. The harmless humor often leans on sexism, homophobia, insecurity, and fat-shaming, masked by a laugh track and the comfort of nostalgia. Take for instance the way Chandler’s father is portrayed - a trans woman who is reduced to a punchline through crude impersonations and mockery. Or how Ross reacts when his male nanny turns out to be sensitive and nurturing - his masculinity is visibly threatened, played for laughs. All this while relishing the madeleines the nanny baked. Then there’s Joey, whose entire persona rests on being a womanizer with the emotional depth of a teaspoon. These jokes were easier to digest in the early 2000s when media had fewer checks. But now, they echo differently, uncomfortably.

Even the relationships in the show, once so aspirational to me, seem deeply flawed today. Ross and Rachel's saga, which once felt like the pinnacle of romantic drama, now reads as toxic. Ross’s constant jealousy, need for control, and repeated disregard for Rachel’s male friendships undermine the very foundation of love. Monica, once my favorite for her drive and order (I used to identify as her for a while), now appears as someone who is bossy, pedantic and someone who constantly seeks validation from a mother who couldn't care less about her and whose past weight is weaponized against her. It's exhausting to watch characters I once loved display behaviors that are, frankly, outdated. Troublesome, even.

This isn’t about “canceling” F.R.I.E.N.D.S or dismissing its cultural impact. It’s about recognizing that growth changes how we engage with the media we once adored. My disconnection from the show doesn’t mean I didn’t genuinely enjoy it once - it just means that I’ve evolved. Outgrown it. What made me laugh then doesn’t necessarily make me laugh now, and that’s okay. Nostalgia has its place, but so does discernment. Ultimately, F.R.I.E.N.D.S was a gateway, it opened me up to the world of sitcoms, of characters navigating big city life, of humor shaped by culture. 

I’m grateful for what it meant in its time. But I’ve moved on to stories with more nuance, more accountability, more sensibility and more representation. I’ll always remember the couch at Central Perk and those ridiculous Thanksgiving episodes, but I don’t relate to them anymore. That’s a sign that I’ve grown up and I couldn't be more happy.