Patricia Prijatel

I’ve been wondering lately if I have lost my grip on the fine art of conversation, or if everybody else has. Or if any of us ever had it in the first place. I have been slow to want to welcome society after those two years avoiding a virus and my fellow human beings. I remain in my own mental pandemic mode much of the time. In theory, I love seeing people again. In practice, I struggle.

I sometimes feel other people want to talk more now while I want to talk less. We all weathered the pandemic differently and had different conversational patterns to begin with, so it’s unrealistic to expect us all to have landed in the same place now. At one point when we were all housebound, it became fashionable for some of us to proudly label ourselves as introverts. More likely, we’re straddling between extroverts and introverts—personality researchers call this being ambiverts, behaving differently depending on the circumstances. I can act like an extrovert when I stand in front of a group and give a presentation. When we break into tables for discussion, I am more comfortable in introvert mode.

The Quiet Intimacy of One-on-One Conversations

My favorite conversations are one-on-one, which offers both participants the chance to get beneath the surface of things and look for meaning and shared experiences. These calm my spirit and enliven my mind. I look forward to them and come away from them energized, thoughtful, and wiser. According to neurological research, these visits trigger my endorphins, giving me a sense of well-being.

The hardest conversations for me are those in large, informal groups. I’m not good with small talk, so my additions to the conversations feel more like interruptions. But how do I know when somebody’s story about their visit to the car dealership ends so I can jump in with my story about the dentist, which is much funnier and more engaging? After all, I don't want to just sit there and not contribute, nodding like a Bobblehead.

And politics. Please, no politics. I don't care if I agree with you totally and heartily. I’m just so very tired of it and tired of those conversations that never go anywhere new, but bemoan what a mess we’re in, as though anybody forgot. It's exhausting.

Has this always been so hard? And is it hard for others and not just me?

Conversation Versus Monologue

The larger the group gets, the more it can veer from conversation into serial monologues, or into competitions for time at the mic. And, as the youngest of five highly vocal siblings, my style has often been to jump into a conversation when I see an opening. But sometimes I get in and then wonder, “Now what?” Everybody is looking at me, expecting me to say something. Other times, I realize the story about the car dealership wasn't actually over, and people are looking at me because I just ruined the punch line.

Two Chairs, Plus a Crowd

Now seems the time to bring up Henry David Thoreau and his famous comment: “I had three chairs in my house; one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society.” Of course, immediately after he wrote those words, he acknowledged that he often had crowds visit his home—they just had to stand up. Which could be good psychology, keeping the discussion moving by making sure nobody is too comfortable.

Right as the pandemic began to wane and we started going out to restaurants again, I often noticed large groups of young women close to us who were extremely noisy. Lots of laughter, loud voices, several rounds of drinks. I looked over at their faces and saw stress, so I tried to give them grace about their noisiness. In my mind, many were young mothers who were finally getting out of the house, where they had been trapped with hyper kids and stressed spouses. I don’t notice this much anymore. Where are those women now—drinking in their homes? Or sitting somewhere, quietly talking with a friend?

Professional communicators focus on the audience, fine-tuning their message to their listener’s needs and interests. That happens innately with one-on-one discussions. But as the audience gets larger and more diverse, it’s difficult to pinpoint any topic or approach that might appeal to all. Group settings by nature include multiple speakers and multiple audiences. That can feel chaotic to some of us.

But who knows? Maybe we’re all fine with our communication skills. It may come down to finding topics that are solid enough for discussion yet not depressing or demoralizing and that don’t antagonize or annoy somebody. That’s a lot of qualifiers. I can either bore you with my dentist story or go into a spiel about climate grief, water quality, gun violence, or hate. That’s an effective way to lose the crowd. But, maybe right now, I neither want nor need a crowd.

I just need one person at a time, talking and listening.