The Loneliness of Acquaintances
The toughest part about returning to college each fall is running into acquaintances. Of course, I love talking to my close friends. But I always feel awkward and un-charismatic when chatting with a not-so-close friend. I never know how long the conversations are supposed to last.
Here’s how it usually goes: I greet them, they greet me, we exchange cursory details about our internships and summer housing arrangements. There’s a brief, semi-awkward silence. Then, one of us quickly remembers our pressing obligation, and the conversation dissolves:
Minimal greeting — “Hey, how’ve you been?”
Minimal response — “Good, how was your internship?”
Minimal friendly back-and-forth — “Oh, it was good. Yeah, I was doing consulting and living with some friends. It was great. How about you?”
End scene — “Yeah, my internship was good. Long hours, but good. Anyway, I gotta run to class but good to see you!”
Sometimes the chats are a little longer than this. But not by much. I have a name for these types of interactions: lonely conversations.
I always blame myself when these things happen:
Did I say something boring? Did I ask a boring question?
Usually, I try to find a solution:
I know! Next time, I should prepare a funny anecdote, ask a clever question, or lead with a dazzling compliment. Maybe then, I will do a better job holding my acquaintance’s attention.
But that usually fails too. And after a few lonely conversations in a row, things get bleak:
Maybe I’m just boring. Is that what it feels like to be a boring person?
The Pattern Continues
One of the most lonely conversations I can remember happened with a guy named Blake. It fell into that classic pattern:
Minimal greeting
Minimal response
Minimal friendly back-and-forth
End scene
After that, I knew my acquaintanceship with Blake would continue like this forever. We’d bump into each other every few weeks. We’d dance those same four steps. And we would repeat this pattern until we graduated.
Camping
But the week after that conversation, I got an email from Blake. He invited me on a 48-hour camping trip in the White Mountains:
I don’t know why he invited me. Maybe he just needed to fill spots? Whatever. I can’t imagine a worse torture. 48-hours of surface-level, lonely conversation. Stuck in the woods, with no way to escape. I told him I was busy.
The next day, I learned that Kevin, who is my close friend, was going on this camping trip. He convinced me to ask Blake if there were any spots left. I got the last one.
Three days later, we were hiking through the woods, trying to find a good campsite. I stayed attached to Kevin’s hip, trying to avoid Blake and avoid lonely conversations.
We found a site. We built tents and then a campfire. Blake started talking, “This reminds me of the summer camp where I used to go.”
“You were a camper?” I asked.
“Yeah, and then a counselor,” Blake replied, “Someday I want to own my own summer camp.”
This was the start of one of the best conversations I’ve ever had. We talked about dozens of topics, but I remember only the first. In the best conversations, I often don’t remember what we talked about, only how it felt.
From one week to the next, my conversations with Blake went from lonely to heartwarming, from draining to nourishing. Here’s what I realized: in 90% of bad conversations, the problem is context, not content. When a conversation feels lonely, it’s not that someone said or did something wrong. The problem is that both parties have not created the context for a fulfilling conversation.
After this incident, I started to notice patterns in lonely conversation...
What Causes Lonely Conversation
There’s a small set of things that most often stand in the way of fulfilling conversations. Here they are, ordered by frequency:
Having only one minute to talk — You both know you don't have time to get into any complicated topics. Classic example: you’re walking in opposite directions.
Repeated distractions — A noisy room. A nosy waiter. A nagging headache. A needy child.
Low interest in the other person — Maybe they are talking about their Fitbit or their gluten-free lifestyle. Either way, you don’t care about what the other person is saying.
A lack of shared context — You yearn to talk about your failing marriage. But, to understand, your conversation partner would need a summary of your previous five fights.
Lots of “conversation landmines'' — Secrets that need to be kept. Touchy subjects that can't be brought up.
Creating The Right Context
If you want to have more fulfilling conversations, you can do it. And you can do it without artificial conversation starters, like Conversation Menus or The 36 Questions That Lead To Love. To have more fulfilling conversations, you can simply put yourself into contexts where they happen. To do this, just reverse the common issues. Here’s what the right context feels like:
Unlimited time
No distractions
High interest in the other person
A large shared context of understanding
Permission to say anything on one’s mind
For many of these, it’s about making a choice. You can choose to put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You can choose to be interested in another person’s life. You can choose to listen in a non-judgemental way that makes people feel comfortable speaking their minds.
Not All Small-Talk is Lonely
But it’s also OK for conversations to be short and well-mannered. At my internship, I used to have lonely conversations with my boss. I imagined him reacting like this:
But it was probably more like, “Did he just ask me How was your weekend? What a polite young man!”
Some conversations are just social pleasantries. They exist to signal mutual goodwill, and that’s it. Not every conversation needs to be meaningful. Not every conversation needs to be therapeutic, memorable, funny, or even interesting.
But if you do feel deprived of fulfilling conversation, you now have a useful guideline. Create proper contexts with lots of time and few distractions. Then, listen with care. Go for a scenic drive. Set up a campfire. Go for a long walk without your phone. If you create the context, the communication will come.