Here’s a simple truth that most people don’t want to hear:
Not everyone who’s in your circle is in your corner.
That line usually earns a few raised eyebrows when I say it from a stage. But it always lands because we all have someone in our orbit who smiles at our success on the outside while quietly resenting it on the inside.
During my keynotes, I ask audiences to conduct a small but powerful experiment. Grab a pen and paper or the notes app on your phone and write down the names of the people in your life who genuinely want the best for you. The ones you call when something amazing happens and it doesn’t feel like boasting to tell them. You can feel their joy for you. There’s no jealousy, no subtle one-upping, no discomfort—just pure, unfiltered celebration.
Then I tell them to proceed with caution.
Because sometimes, the people you believe will be happy for you… aren’t.
Their reaction might be disguised as a polite smile, a lukewarm “that’s great,” or even silence. And that’s when you realize they’re part of your circle, but not in your corner.
There’s a big difference.
Finally, I ask the audience to add one more name filter: those who are not afraid to challenge you when you’re wrong, who love you enough to tell you when you’re slipping, and who remind you that you can do better. These are the people who help you become your best self. They don’t just support you; they stretch you.
Now, why does this matter? Because even the most well-intentioned among us are living under a dangerous illusion that we can maintain endless friendships, endless connections, endless touchpoints.
We can’t.
According to British anthropologist Robin Dunbar, there’s a cognitive limit to the number of people with whom we can maintain meaningful social relationships. It’s called the Dunbar Number, and it hovers around 150. That’s roughly the number of people you can genuinely know, not just by name or title, but by understanding their story and how they connect to yours.
Dunbar’s research also revealed that those 150 relationships aren’t all equal. They’re layered like concentric circles, each requiring a different level of emotional investment and time. These layers aren’t separate groups that add up to more than 150—they build on one another, nested within the total number.
At the very center are your five closest relationships—the people who know the unfiltered version of you. They are your emotional core, the ones you turn to in crisis or celebration. These are the friends who show up without being asked, the ones who know your history, your heartbreaks, your dreams, and still choose to stay. Think of your partner, your best friend, a sibling, or a lifelong confidant. These relationships demand constant nourishment—time together, vulnerability, and trust. They are the roots that keep you grounded when the rest of life feels chaotic.
The next layer expands to about fifteen close friends. These are the people you regularly interact with, who play significant roles in your life. They might not know every detail of your day, but they are in your corner. You call them when you need perspective, support, or just to share a laugh over dinner. This group often includes your workout partners, the colleague who always has your back, or the friend you travel with every year. They keep you balanced, and maintaining these relationships takes consistent, intentional effort.
Beyond that is a circle of about fifty good friends—people you like, trust, and enjoy spending time with, but you might not confide in deeply. They’re the ones you invite to a milestone birthday party or to your home for a barbecue. You might see them at weddings, community events, or on group texts that make you feel part of something bigger. You know their stories, and they know yours, but the connection is lighter. These relationships bring joy and belonging but require less maintenance than the inner circles.
Finally, there’s the outermost layer: about one hundred fifty meaningful relationships. These are the people whose lives intersect with yours in recognizable ways. You might not talk regularly, but you could pick up a conversation easily if you ran into them at the airport or the grocery store. You know their spouse’s name, their job, or their kids’ faces from social media. Dunbar found that this outer layer represents the full extent of the human capacity for stable, meaningful relationships.
That number might sound unmanageable—and it is if you think of them all as close friends. But this group isn’t about intimacy; it’s about familiarity. It’s the network that holds your social world together. Historically, this number has shown up everywhere. Most hunter-gatherer tribes averaged around 150 members. The basic unit of the Roman army, called a company, was about 150 soldiers. Even modern organizations often find that once a team grows beyond that size, cohesion and communication start to fracture. Humans are wired to thrive in social systems small enough for trust and accountability to remain intact.
Beyond 150, we move into acquaintance territory—the LinkedIn connections, the “likes” on Instagram, the people we wave to in passing. And that’s where so many of us are burning out.
We’ve become a culture that confuses visibility with connection. We chase followers instead of friends, notifications instead of nourishment. But the truth is, our brains and hearts aren’t wired for hundreds of deep, sustaining bonds. Each relationship demands time, energy, and reciprocity. If everything is important, nothing is.
Dunbar’s research has shown up in some surprising places, from military unit design to corporate team structure, because the same principle holds true everywhere: beyond a certain size, relationships begin to decay. Once we stretch past our relational bandwidth, trust erodes and intimacy fades.
So maybe the question isn’t “How many friends do I have?”
Maybe the better question is “How many friends do I truly show up for, and who shows up for me?”
If you really want to disrupt your life for the better, try this:
- Do the relationship audit. Use that experiment. Write the names. See who’s in your corner, not just your circle. If your list feels shorter than you’d like, that’s okay. Depth beats width every time.
- Reinvest your time. Dunbar’s research suggests that maintaining close bonds requires consistent interaction. You can’t sustain fifty deep relationships if you’re giving every spare minute to your phone. Reallocate your energy toward the few who truly matter.
- Let go of guilt. It’s not cruel to prune relationships; it’s healthy. You’re not meant to be everything to everyone. Focus on those who reciprocate your energy and values.
Some newer studies challenge Dunbar’s number, arguing that social media, modern mobility, and communication tools have expanded our capacity. Maybe. But what hasn’t changed is our need for authentic, mutual connection, something no “like” or emoji can replace.
So maybe the real disruption isn’t in proving Dunbar wrong.
Maybe it’s in living his theory intentionally.
It’s recognizing that our emotional and mental bandwidth is finite and choosing to fill it with people who add energy instead of draining it. It’s curating a life surrounded not by an audience but by allies.
Because when you think about it, every major breakthrough, personal or professional, probably started with someone in your corner saying, “You’ve got this.”
So look at your list.
Who are your five?
Who are your fifteen?
Who are your fifty?
Those names represent your ecosystem of growth. Protect it. Feed it. Nurture it.
Because when you start being intentional about who earns your time and trust, that’s not just good relationship management. That’s a disruption of the highest order.