I’ve been reflecting on the familiar faces I used to encounter on Sunday mornings. We would gather in the same church, exchanging lighthearted remarks during the coffee hour that followed the service. Sometimes, we would even collaborate on various committees. While I might not know their children’s names or their jobs, there’s a sense of connection that seems deeper than with some of my closest friends. It’s almost as if we shared common values and priorities — the things that truly matter to us.
However, it’s been almost a year since I’ve had a real conversation with many of these acquaintances. Although we still “see” each other during Zoom church (I’m often off-camera, having just emerged from the shower), it simply isn’t the same. Despite our attempts to connect through virtual coffee hour and outreach efforts, what I truly miss — something I never expected — is the small talk. Those spontaneous exchanges of “How are you?” and casual sharing about recent vacations.
Among the many insights I’ve gained during the pandemic, the most unexpected is that, even though I cherish deep conversations and prioritize quality over quantity in my friendships, I genuinely miss — and need — my small-talk friends. A LOT.
There are options available, like Zoom calls, phone chats, and text messages. Yet, after a week filled with meetings on Microsoft Teams, the last thing I want to do is stare at another screen for a conversation. I constantly feel overwhelmed trying to maintain connections with family members I don’t live with — parents, siblings, in-laws — and a few close friends, all while managing my job and volunteer commitments. Consequently, I often find myself drained. Sure, we could chat on the phone, but the beauty of these relationships lies in their organic nature; staying in touch happened naturally because we shared common spaces and activities.
I miss these friends.
Amanda Mull, in The Atlantic, noted that “the pandemic has evaporated entire categories of friendship, and by doing so, depleted the joys that make up a human life — and buoy human health.” Small talk friends seem to fall into this category.
Over the past year, it’s felt as though the pandemic has targeted all but my closest relationships. People on the periphery of my life become distant when the idea of “keeping up” feels almost nonsensical. Yes, there are still ways to engage in “small talk” through platforms like Facebook or by liking Instagram Stories, yet these interactions often feel flimsy and lack genuine connection. Commenting on a friend’s pet photos can’t compare to witnessing the sparkle in their eyes when they share their pet’s name. Discussing memes about the dismal weather or the state of politics doesn’t compare to hearing someone recount their experience of phone banking in the fall. And sharing Netflix recommendations online doesn’t hold a candle to a friend expressing their admiration for your new shoes.
A few months ago, I found myself in a funk of loneliness and couldn’t quite understand why. I was in touch with a few friends, my siblings, and my parents, but our conversations were mostly updates or venting sessions. We exchanged news about significant events or shared complaints. Through a lengthy discussion with my therapist, I came to realize that what I truly missed were those long, meandering conversations about the mundane. I yearned to talk about the details of my volunteering — things that felt too self-serving or inappropriate to mention on social media but were genuinely important to me. I missed sharing the little aspects of life that emerge when you have the time to delve into a conversation. And I realized how much I missed those small-talk friendships that may not seem significant but form the backbone of our social lives. Think of the neighbors in your school carpool, the hairdresser you visit every few months, or the acquaintances you chat with after Sunday service. I miss them all.
As an introvert, discovering how much I long for small talk has been quite surprising. However, it’s not the small talk itself I miss; it’s the people behind the small talk. I don’t miss the awkwardness of social interactions, but I do miss the individuals involved in those exchanges.
Both close friendships and casual small-talk friendships are essential. William Rawlins, a communications professor at Ohio University who studies friendship, stated that these relationships matter because they fulfill our innate desire to be recognized and seen, “to have our own humanity reflected back at us.”
I’m not suggesting we schedule more Zoom calls, text our hairdressers, or comment more on Facebook posts (heaven forbid!). I don’t have much advice, aside from expressing how much I miss my small-talk friends. I miss the Sunday morning coffee hour, the casual chats during school drop-offs, and the chance encounters with old friends in grocery stores.
While our closest friends might be the ones helping us navigate the pandemic, I have a feeling that once this is all over, we’ll have a newfound appreciation for those small-talk friends.
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Summary
The article reflects on the importance of casual friendships that often go unnoticed but are foundational to our social lives. Amidst the pandemic, the author realizes how much they miss small talk and the connections that come with it, emphasizing that both close and casual friendships play vital roles in our well-being.
SEO Metadata
Keywords: casual friendships, small talk, pandemic, social connections, emotional well-being