Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the individuals I used to encounter on Sunday mornings. We would sit close together at church, exchanging casual greetings during coffee hour after the service. Perhaps we even collaborated on a committee. I might not know their children’s names or their jobs, but there’s a sense of connection. It feels like we understand each other’s values and priorities — sometimes more so than with those I consider close friends.
Yet, it’s been almost a year since I last spoke to many of them. While we still “see” each other during Zoom church services (though I usually keep my camera off after a rushed shower), it simply isn’t the same. It’s not for lack of effort. We still have our Sunday coffee hour over Zoom, and there’s plenty of outreach happening. However, what I truly miss — something I never anticipated — is the small talk, those brief exchanges of “how are yous” and sharing snippets from our recent vacations.
One of the most unexpected insights I’ve gained during the pandemic is how much I not only cherish deep conversations but also how much I need — and miss — my small-talk friends. A LOT.
Yes, there are alternatives like Zoom, phone calls, and text messages. However, after a long week of virtual meetings, the last thing I want to do is stare at another screen for a conversation. I’m overwhelmed trying to stay connected with family members I don’t live with — parents, siblings, in-laws — as well as a few close friends. Juggling my job(s) and volunteer commitments leaves me drained. Sure, we could chat on the phone, but the beauty of those casual friendships was that there were no expectations to stay in touch; the connection happened naturally because we shared spaces or activities.
I truly miss these acquaintances.
In The Atlantic, Amanda Mull noted, “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 belong to this category. Mull elaborated, “During the past year, it’s often felt like the pandemic has come for all but the closest of my close ties. There are people on the outer periphery of my life for whom the concept of ‘keeping up’ makes little sense.”
While we can still engage in “small talk” through social media, these interactions feel fragile and lack real connection. Liking someone’s puppy pics is not the same as witnessing the sparkle in their eyes as they share the pup’s name. Sharing memes about the dreadful weather or the state of politics doesn’t compare to hearing someone recount their experiences of phone banking in the fall. And exchanging Netflix recommendations online pales compared to someone complimenting your new shoes in person.
A few months ago, I found myself in a funk, feeling lonely without understanding why. I was keeping in touch with a handful of friends, my siblings, and my parents, but most conversations revolved around updates or venting. After a deep discussion with my therapist, it became clear that what I craved were those long, meandering talks about seemingly insignificant topics. I missed sharing details about my volunteer work — things that felt too personal or inappropriate for social media but were important to me. I longed for the kind of exchanges that happen when there’s time to delve into a conversation, and I missed those small-talk friendships that may seem trivial but form the backbone of our social life. You know the ones — the neighbors from your school carpool, the hairdresser you see every few months, the people you chat with after church on Sunday morning. I miss them all.
As an introvert, realizing how much I yearn for small talk has been eye-opening. It’s not just the interactions I miss; it’s the people behind them. I don’t miss awkward social encounters, but I deeply miss the individuals I shared them with.
Both close friendships and casual small-talk relationships matter. As William Rawlins, a communications professor at Ohio University, told The Atlantic, all these relationships are vital because they satisfy our inherent desire to be known and recognized, “to have our own humanity reflected back at us.”
I’m not advocating for more Zoom calls or texting our hairdressers or commenting on every Facebook post (thank goodness, no). I don’t have a lot of advice to offer, other than to say that I miss my small-talk friends. I miss that Sunday coffee hour. I miss chatting with parents during school drop-offs. I miss running into an old friend at the grocery store.
While our closest friends might be supporting us through the pandemic, I believe that once this is all behind us, we will have a renewed appreciation for our small-talk friends.
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In summary, the pandemic has highlighted the significance of small-talk friendships in our lives. While deep connections are important, the casual relationships we often take for granted also play a crucial role in our social well-being.
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