I’ve been reflecting on the faces I used to see every Sunday morning. We would gather in church, share a few friendly words over coffee after the service, and occasionally collaborate on committees. While I might not know their children’s names or their job titles, I feel a sense of connection with them. In many ways, it seems that we understand each other’s values and priorities — what truly matters to us — even more than those I consider close friends.
However, I haven’t had a conversation with some of these acquaintances in nearly a year. Yes, we still “meet” during our Zoom church services (though I usually keep my camera off after just emerging from the shower and am not exactly in camera-ready mode), but it’s not the same. Despite our efforts, including virtual coffee hours on Sundays and various outreach activities, what I genuinely miss — and never thought I would — is the small talk. Those brief exchanges of “how are you?” and sharing snippets about recent vacations.
Among all the lessons learned during this pandemic, the most surprising realization is that, while I cherish deep conversations and prioritize quality over quantity in friendships, I deeply miss my small-talk friends. A LOT.
There are alternatives, of course. Zoom, phone calls, and texts are all viable options. However, after a long week filled with meetings on platforms like Microsoft Teams, the last thing I want to do is stare at a screen for another conversation. I feel overwhelmed trying to stay connected with family — parents, siblings, in-laws — and a few close friends, all while managing my job(s) and volunteer commitments. By the time I’m done, I have little energy left. Sure, we could chat on the phone, but the beauty of these small-talk friendships lies in their lack of obligation; they naturally flourished because we shared common spaces and activities.
I truly miss these friends. As Amanda Mull wrote 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 are undeniably one of those categories.
In the past year, it has often felt as if the pandemic has targeted all but my closest ties, leaving those on the fringes of my life without a way to stay connected. While there are still opportunities for “small talk” through social media platforms, these interactions often feel shallow and lack genuine connection. Commenting on a friend’s pet photos can’t substitute for the spark in their eyes when they share their pet’s name with you. And exchanging memes about the weather or political issues doesn’t compare to hearing someone share a heartfelt story about their experiences.
A few months back, I found myself in a bout of loneliness, puzzled by the feeling. I was keeping in touch with a few friends, my siblings, and my parents, but most of our conversations revolved around updates or complaints. After a lengthy discussion with my therapist, I came to realize that what I truly longed for were those meandering conversations about the trivial things in life. I missed sharing the details of my volunteer work — aspects that felt too personal or inappropriate to post on social media but meant the world to me. I missed the relaxed exchanges that occur when you have time to truly engage in conversation, and I missed all those small-talk friendships that may seem insignificant but fundamentally support our social lives. You know, the neighbors from the school carpool, the hairdresser you see every few months, or those friendly chats after church on Sunday mornings. I miss them all.
As an introvert, it’s been surprising to realize just how much I miss these small talk interactions. It’s not the small talk itself that I yearn for; rather, it’s the people behind those interactions. I don’t miss the awkwardness of social encounters, but the individuals who made those moments memorable.
It’s clear that not just our closest friendships matter; those casual small-talk connections are significant too. As communication professor William Rawlins highlighted, all types of relationships are essential because they fulfill our innate desire to be acknowledged and understood. They help reflect our humanity back to us.
I’m not suggesting we schedule more Zoom calls or start texting our hairdressers or comment on every social media post (heaven forbid). Honestly, I don’t have much in the way of advice, other than to express that I miss my small-talk friends. I miss the Sunday morning coffee hours, the chats during school drop-offs, and the chance encounters with old friends at the grocery store.
While our closest friends may be the ones supporting us through this pandemic, I believe that once it’s over, we will have a renewed appreciation for those small-talk friends.
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Summary: The pandemic has made many realize the importance of small-talk friendships, those casual connections that provide a sense of community and belonging. Despite the presence of digital communication, nothing compares to the warmth of in-person interactions and the simple joy of small conversations. As we emerge from this challenging period, we may find a newfound appreciation for these seemingly insignificant yet vital relationships.