I’ve been reflecting a lot on the faces I used to see regularly on Sunday mornings. We would gather in the same pew at church, share a few friendly words over coffee after the service, and maybe even collaborate on a committee. While I might not know their children’s names or their jobs, I still feel a connection with them. In many ways, it seems like we understand each other’s values and what truly matters more than some of my closer friends.
However, I haven’t had a chat with many of these individuals in almost a year. While we still “see” each other during Zoom church services on Sundays (though I often keep my camera off since I’m usually not quite ready), it simply isn’t the same. It’s not for lack of effort; we still have our virtual coffee hours, but what I genuinely miss—what I never expected to miss—is the small talk, those random exchanges of “how have you been?” and the sharing of vacation highlights.
Of all the insights I’ve gained during this pandemic, the most unexpected is that, despite my appreciation for deep conversations and valuing the quality of my friendships, I truly miss my small-talk friends—a lot.
Sure, there are alternatives like Zoom, phone calls, and texting. But after a long week of back-to-back meetings on Microsoft Teams, the last thing I want is to stare at my screen for yet another conversation. I’m constantly overwhelmed trying to maintain connections with family members I don’t live with—parents, siblings, in-laws—and a few close friends, all while juggling my work and volunteer commitments. By the time I think about reaching out, I have nothing left to give. Yes, we could chat on the phone, but the beauty of those small relationships was that staying in touch felt effortless, a natural result of shared spaces and activities.
I genuinely miss these acquaintances. As Amanda Mull noted in The Atlantic, “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 that category.
Mull wrote, “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.” Yes, we can still engage in small talk through social media or by liking posts, but those interactions often feel hollow and lacking in genuine connection. Commenting on someone’s pet photos can’t compare to seeing the sparkle in their eye as they share their pet’s name. Sharing memes about the weather or current events pales in comparison to hearing someone recount their experience volunteering during the election season. And discussing Netflix shows via social media lacks the warmth of hearing a friend compliment your new shoes in person.
A few months ago, I found myself in a funk of loneliness and couldn’t pinpoint why. I was keeping in touch with a handful of close friends, siblings, and parents, but our conversations mainly revolved around updates and complaints. After a lengthy discussion with my therapist, I realized what I craved were those long, winding conversations about nothing in particular. I missed discussing the details of my volunteer work—things I wouldn’t share on social media but felt were important. I longed for the casual exchanges that arise when you have time to truly engage in conversation. I missed the small-talk friendships that may not stand out but are the very foundation of my social life: the neighbors from my school carpool, the hairdresser I see occasionally, and the friendly chats after church.
As an introvert, recognizing how much I miss these small interactions has been rather eye-opening. It’s not just the small talk itself that I miss; I miss the friends who were part of those exchanges. It’s clear that while our closest friends offer support during tough times, casual friendships hold significant value, too. William Rawlins, a communications professor at Ohio University who studies friendship, explained that all these relationships matter because they fulfill our innate desire to be recognized and understood, “to have our own humanity reflected back at us.”
I’m not suggesting we schedule more Zoom meetings or start texting our hairdressers or increase our social media engagement (thank goodness, no). I don’t have any concrete advice, except to say that I genuinely miss my small-talk friends. I miss the Sunday coffee hours, the chats with parents at school drop-off, and the chance encounters with old friends in the grocery store.
While our closest bonds may be what sustain us through these challenging times, I believe that once this pandemic is behind us, we will hold a newfound appreciation for those small-talk friendships.
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Summary
In reflecting on the impact of the pandemic, I’ve realized how much I miss my casual conversation friends—those individuals I interacted with regularly but didn’t consider close friends. These small-talk relationships, often overlooked, play a significant role in our social lives and overall well-being. The pandemic has highlighted the importance of these connections, reminding us that they fulfill our fundamental need to be seen and heard.
Keyphrase: small-talk friendships
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