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So I am back from a conference where I did hang out not with my usual crowd (since none of them were around) and I am taking bets that most of the "new" people think me social and outgoing and somebody you can have a good conversation with. I see how this happens: I try talking to people and to include everyone at the table in conversations, and I make stupid jokes when chairing a session that ends up starting 10 minutes too late because people are late coming back from lunch. I am not perfect, of course - this was a conference without my usual crowd, so long coffee breaks are sometimes hard to fill and I ended up fleeing to play Pokémon Go a few times ("so how is your science going?" only brings you so far with senior people of whom I know that they are hating everything me and my collaborators are doing). But this is not what this is about - it's just a catalyst for a few thoughts about small talk and (dinner) conversations.
I.
USA taught small talk. I think I haven't been the worst before, but now I am definitely much better at it. Mind it, I'm still awful at the high art of the fast American small talk at parties, the one where people jump topics and where nobody waits for the other to finish their story before picking up a new thread. But I can hold and often even enjoy a random conversation as long as there is some sense to it (the sense may be to make someone feel good by giving them a bit of attention or smooth over an awkward situation).
II.
J., my dinner buddy and I, are not friends. Our meetings are fancy dinners that we spend having enjoyable conversations about travel, being a woman in male dominated fields, East-European heritage, food in general, the perils of living in the Netherlands and whatever other random stuff comes up.
I don't think we could be friends, we do not click on that level, but we are perfect dinner buddies - she is one of few people who have seen me drunk (more about that another time, it's somewhat embarassing) and I would offer her my couch any time (and she would have offered me hers). We may have a different outlook on life, thus the no friends thing, but I also deeply enjoy her insights into corporate world and her travel recommendations. We also started our dinners cleverly: with a less fancy place (a French bistro that taught me to like Weißburgunder), to try out how things work out between us. We knew each other fleetingly from conferences since she did her PhD in astrophysics, too - but was she someone I want to spend five hours over amazing food with? A nice dinner is far more than just the food. And it was relaxing to acknowledge that this was a trial run - if it had not worked, well ... a pity, but so be it. Four Michelin star dinners and perhaps more in the future tell you that it did. And most things we talk about are not small talk though we may be employing the techniques that I do associate with it.
III.
Why do these conversations between J. and I. work?
Let me take a step back and start from further away. Showing that I am interested and asking questions does not come to me naturally. Sometimes I realize in the middle of conversation how good the other person is at it and pause internally, admiring them and how interesting they make me feel, how they make the conversation flow. I, on the other hand (or perhaps it's the same for them and I just can't tell), have to force myself to do so. Until it becomes almost natural, admittedly; fake it till you make it. But then I encounter someone who is perfectly socially elegant and I have to pause and admire them and try to learn from them. And since elegant is a word often reserved for looks, let me emphasize: this has nothing to do with appearances but with the ease with which people move through conversations.
This meta-cognition of the conversation, the fact that I have to make myself ask and follow up and nod along, do not mean that I am not intrinsically interested, that I am just playing, offering a facade. I deeply believe that being interested is more often than mot a conscious decision. And if there is something that my conversation partner is enthusiastic about and wants to talk about, it's easy to be interested in it. (Assuming that this is someone I want to spend time with or at least made a conscious decision to spend time with; let's not talk about the forced hours spend with someone in a car or alike, that's a different story.)
IV.
I do, however, expect reciprocation (assuming that this is not someone I asked to have a coffee with me because I wanted to pick their brains about something ).
There is nothing more frustrating than someone who shows zero interest in me or what I have to say. If no questions, not a single sigh of being curious about me comes, I start laying tracks, casually mentioning things. "Yes, I lived in Boston, which has amazing museums, a great chocolate factory, but the transatlantic flights there are atrocious" easily opens a way for the other person to talk about our mutual love for museums, likes or dislikes of different kinds of chocolate or the trials of long flights. But some people just don't take this up, ignore any track I lay out. If we are stuck together over a meal (a thing that happens often at conferences), why not try to make it enjoyable for both sides? Except if you want it to be quiet - which is sad (and terribly frustrating, in case they were the one who suggested to do something together) but fine, I can do that, please just ...
V.
... don't keep talking.
I am far too polite to not ask questions (smoothing social awkwardness is really important to me, even though I am shit at it most of the time) but at some point, when people keep on talking and talking and ignore my own contributions (you mention that one book? Cool! Here are some thoughts about books, how about we talk about books now? How about me mentioning another book that is similar? No? You really just want to keep telling me about that one? Well, OK, then you'll get a few "hmmmms ..." and nods since you seem not interested in a conversation).
It's just - next time, I'm going with someone who else. I can also have a nice half an hour with my book or my phone. Or you know, just me; being an introvert, I really like being alone with my thoughts.
VI.
There are, of course, people, who can keep talking and talking and talking at me when they need it and where I don't mind. But those are close friends and I know that they will listen to me in the same way. N. is one. There are few others.
(And there is, of course, LJ, where you can nothing but listen. But even here, it's more about the conversation to me that about reading.)
VII.
There are other ways of conversations breaking down: people killing them with answers that do not allow any follow up (there is just so much of one-word or one-sentence answers that I can stand until I give up on asking and quietly suffer through the following social awkwardness). People being assholes and idiots and bigots (but this one is a different failure, the other ones are all about the how of communicating not the what).
VIII.
And there are moments when things break together, when conversation just does not happen even if it did before. A bad day? A bad mood? Something like it (I'm thinking back to the last dinner with a two friends of mine that just felt terribly long although it was not ). But even then one can tell whether the other side is at least trying.
I.
USA taught small talk. I think I haven't been the worst before, but now I am definitely much better at it. Mind it, I'm still awful at the high art of the fast American small talk at parties, the one where people jump topics and where nobody waits for the other to finish their story before picking up a new thread. But I can hold and often even enjoy a random conversation as long as there is some sense to it (the sense may be to make someone feel good by giving them a bit of attention or smooth over an awkward situation).
II.
J., my dinner buddy and I, are not friends. Our meetings are fancy dinners that we spend having enjoyable conversations about travel, being a woman in male dominated fields, East-European heritage, food in general, the perils of living in the Netherlands and whatever other random stuff comes up.
I don't think we could be friends, we do not click on that level, but we are perfect dinner buddies - she is one of few people who have seen me drunk (more about that another time, it's somewhat embarassing) and I would offer her my couch any time (and she would have offered me hers). We may have a different outlook on life, thus the no friends thing, but I also deeply enjoy her insights into corporate world and her travel recommendations. We also started our dinners cleverly: with a less fancy place (a French bistro that taught me to like Weißburgunder), to try out how things work out between us. We knew each other fleetingly from conferences since she did her PhD in astrophysics, too - but was she someone I want to spend five hours over amazing food with? A nice dinner is far more than just the food. And it was relaxing to acknowledge that this was a trial run - if it had not worked, well ... a pity, but so be it. Four Michelin star dinners and perhaps more in the future tell you that it did. And most things we talk about are not small talk though we may be employing the techniques that I do associate with it.
III.
Why do these conversations between J. and I. work?
Let me take a step back and start from further away. Showing that I am interested and asking questions does not come to me naturally. Sometimes I realize in the middle of conversation how good the other person is at it and pause internally, admiring them and how interesting they make me feel, how they make the conversation flow. I, on the other hand (or perhaps it's the same for them and I just can't tell), have to force myself to do so. Until it becomes almost natural, admittedly; fake it till you make it. But then I encounter someone who is perfectly socially elegant and I have to pause and admire them and try to learn from them. And since elegant is a word often reserved for looks, let me emphasize: this has nothing to do with appearances but with the ease with which people move through conversations.
This meta-cognition of the conversation, the fact that I have to make myself ask and follow up and nod along, do not mean that I am not intrinsically interested, that I am just playing, offering a facade. I deeply believe that being interested is more often than mot a conscious decision. And if there is something that my conversation partner is enthusiastic about and wants to talk about, it's easy to be interested in it. (Assuming that this is someone I want to spend time with or at least made a conscious decision to spend time with; let's not talk about the forced hours spend with someone in a car or alike, that's a different story.)
IV.
I do, however, expect reciprocation (assuming that this is not someone I asked to have a coffee with me because I wanted to pick their brains about something ).
There is nothing more frustrating than someone who shows zero interest in me or what I have to say. If no questions, not a single sigh of being curious about me comes, I start laying tracks, casually mentioning things. "Yes, I lived in Boston, which has amazing museums, a great chocolate factory, but the transatlantic flights there are atrocious" easily opens a way for the other person to talk about our mutual love for museums, likes or dislikes of different kinds of chocolate or the trials of long flights. But some people just don't take this up, ignore any track I lay out. If we are stuck together over a meal (a thing that happens often at conferences), why not try to make it enjoyable for both sides? Except if you want it to be quiet - which is sad (and terribly frustrating, in case they were the one who suggested to do something together) but fine, I can do that, please just ...
V.
... don't keep talking.
I am far too polite to not ask questions (smoothing social awkwardness is really important to me, even though I am shit at it most of the time) but at some point, when people keep on talking and talking and ignore my own contributions (you mention that one book? Cool! Here are some thoughts about books, how about we talk about books now? How about me mentioning another book that is similar? No? You really just want to keep telling me about that one? Well, OK, then you'll get a few "hmmmms ..." and nods since you seem not interested in a conversation).
It's just - next time, I'm going with someone who else. I can also have a nice half an hour with my book or my phone. Or you know, just me; being an introvert, I really like being alone with my thoughts.
VI.
There are, of course, people, who can keep talking and talking and talking at me when they need it and where I don't mind. But those are close friends and I know that they will listen to me in the same way. N. is one. There are few others.
(And there is, of course, LJ, where you can nothing but listen. But even here, it's more about the conversation to me that about reading.)
VII.
There are other ways of conversations breaking down: people killing them with answers that do not allow any follow up (there is just so much of one-word or one-sentence answers that I can stand until I give up on asking and quietly suffer through the following social awkwardness). People being assholes and idiots and bigots (but this one is a different failure, the other ones are all about the how of communicating not the what).
VIII.
And there are moments when things break together, when conversation just does not happen even if it did before. A bad day? A bad mood? Something like it (I'm thinking back to the last dinner with a two friends of mine that just felt terribly long although it was not ). But even then one can tell whether the other side is at least trying.
