I’ve been reflecting a lot on the acquaintances I used to connect with on Sunday mornings. We would sit in proximity at church, exchanging lighthearted banter during coffee hour after the service. Sometimes, we might even collaborate on a committee. I may not know their children’s names or their workplaces, but I feel a certain familiarity with them. Strangely enough, it feels like we understand each other’s values and priorities—what truly matters—better than some of my closest friends.
However, I haven’t spoken to many of these individuals in nearly a year. Although we still “see” each other during Zoom church on Sundays (or at least I do, as I tend to keep my camera off since I often dash out of the shower and am not exactly presentable), it’s just not the same. It’s not for lack of trying; we still have virtual coffee hour every Sunday, and there are plenty of outreach initiatives. What I truly miss—what I never thought I would—is that delightful small talk, those random “how are yous” and sharing snippets about recent vacations.
Among all the lessons I’ve learned during the pandemic, the most surprising is how much I genuinely miss—and need—my casual conversation friends. A LOT.
Sure, there are alternatives like Zoom calls, phone chats, and text messages. But after a long week of virtual meetings, the last thing I want to do is stare at another computer screen for a conversation. I’m constantly overwhelmed trying to maintain connections with family members I don’t live with—parents, siblings, in-laws—and a couple of close friends, while also juggling work and volunteer commitments. By the end of the week, I have little energy left. We could chat on the phone, of course, but part of the magic of these relationships lies in the absence of pressure to keep in touch. These connections naturally flourished because we shared common spaces or activities.
I miss these friends.
“The pandemic has evaporated entire categories of friendship, and in doing so, depleted the joys that contribute to a fulfilling human life,” wrote Sarah Lane in The Daily Herald. Casual conversation friends seem to be among those missing categories.
Over the past year, it has often felt as if the pandemic has affected all but my closest relationships. There are individuals on the periphery of my life for whom the notion of ‘keeping up’ feels irrelevant. Yes, there are still avenues for “small talk” through social media, but these interactions feel superficial and lack genuine connection. Liking someone’s pet photos isn’t the same as seeing their expression light up when they share the pet’s name. Sharing memes about the weather or the state of politics doesn’t compare to hearing someone recount their experience of volunteering during the election. And recommending a Netflix show on social media doesn’t match the enjoyment of someone admiring those new shoes you’re wearing.
A few months back, I fell into a deep funk of loneliness without understanding why. I was keeping in touch with a few friends, my siblings, and my parents, but most of those conversations revolved around updates or venting. We filled each other in on major events or shared complaints. After a thorough discussion with my therapist, I realized what I was truly missing were those long, meandering conversations that revolve around nothing in particular. I missed sharing details about my volunteer work—things that felt too personal or inappropriate for social media but were significant to me. I missed the richness of discussing life’s little tidbits that surface when we truly invest time in a conversation. I long for those casual friendships that may not stand out but form the bedrock of my social life—like neighbors from the school carpool or the hairdresser I see every few months or those friendly chats after church on Sunday mornings. I miss them all.
As an introvert, realizing how much I crave these casual exchanges has been eye-opening. It’s not the small talk itself that I miss; it’s the people behind the conversations. Those casual connections matter just as much as the deeper friendships. As William Rawlins, a communications professor at Ohio University, noted, all relationships fulfill our fundamental desire to be recognized and valued, to have our humanity mirrored back to us.
I’m not proposing we schedule more Zoom calls or start texting our hairdressers or commenting on social media posts (heaven forbid!). I don’t have much advice other than to express that I miss my casual conversation friends. I miss Sunday morning coffee hours. I miss chatting with parents during school drop-offs. I miss unexpectedly running into an old friend at the grocery store.
While our closest friends may help us navigate through the pandemic, I have a feeling that once this is all behind us, it will be our casual conversation friends who we will appreciate more than ever.
For more insights on home insemination, check out this post on intracervical insemination. If you’re looking for expert advice on the topic, Make a Mom provides excellent resources.
Probable Search Queries:
- home insemination kit
- self insemination methods
- how to use a home insemination kit
- home insemination success rates
- best home insemination practices
In summary, I’ve come to realize that the seemingly insignificant small talk friendships are vital to our social well-being. They fill a unique role in our lives, and in the absence of those interactions, I’ve recognized just how much I miss them.