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263 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 6, 2022
We don't just assume that friendship is a second-tier relationship; we act to make it so. Compared to our families and romantic partners, with friends, we invest less time, are less vulnerable, and share less adoration. We see romantic relationships as the appropriate relationship to hitch a flight to see each other, toil through tension, or nurse each other back to health. We see family as appropriate relationships to move across the country for or to stay committed to despite problematic Uncle Russ getting drunk and testy every holiday. ... while typically our friends are not as close to us as our spouse or sibling, they can be. The only reason they aren't is because the rest of us unnecessarily compartmentalize friendship into happy hours and occasional lunch dates. ... We scalpel the tissue of deep intimacy out of friendship....
Attachment is what we project onto ambiguity in relationships...
If we are kind, open, and trusting, people are more likely to respond in kind. Secure people, then, don't just assume others are trustworthy; they make others trustworthy through their good faith.
A study by Nicholas Epley and Juliana Schroeder at the University of Chicago involved asking people to talk to a stranger on the train. Can you guess how many were shot down? None! According to Epley and Schroeder, "Commuters appeared to think that talking to a stranger posed a meaningful risk of social rejection. As far as we can tell, it posed no risk at all."
It's when there's a mismatch of the content (this is me being vulnerable) and the nonverbal cues (this is no big deal) that misunderstanding can arise. I call this mismatch "packaged vulnerability." ... The issue with packaged vulnerability, Dr. Jackson shared, is that "emotions are the cues for other people, so they know how to respond." When we package our vulnerability to seem less helpless, we run a greater risk of receiving a flat response—not because people don't care, but because they don't sense that this is a moment when caring is important.
Instead of conveying that we like and trust the person we interact with, which occurs when we share gradually, oversharing often conveys instead that we need to get something off our chest, and any listener will do.
Emile Bruneau, a professor at the University of Pennsylvania who studied peace and conflict between groups, argued, "If one group is silenced the rest of the time, perhaps they should be given greater status when the groups come together, a chance to be heard by the more powerful side. Instead of perspective taking, they might benefit from perspective giving." In his study, he had Mexican Americans and White people share short essays about hardships facing their groups. After reading about and summarizing each other's hardships, White participants felt better about Mexican Americans, whereas Mexican Americans felt worse about White people. Mexican Americans felt better about White people only when a White person listened to and summarized their stories of hardship. A similar pattern of results was true for Palestinians sharing with Israelis.
Anger of despair ... occurs when we have lost hope of healing a relationship. It confuses conflict with combat and sets out to defend, offend, punish, destroy, or incite revenge. Whereas anger of hope drives a pause for reflection on deeper needs and values, anger of despair blindly impinges.
If we get defensive during conflict, we also miss out on an opportunity for enlightenment. Conflict is one of the only times we get honest feedback about ourselves.
You cannot develop deep friendship without being accountable to a friend in need ... When you choose to be a friend, you choose to show up. Research finds that support in times of need is a key factor that makes people more secure over time, and as other studies find, the more secure we are, the more supportive we are right back. When we feel prioritized in times of need—our needs attended to, our welfare considered—we reciprocate.
Fay Bound Alberti, in A Biography of Loneliness: The History of an Emotion, argues the internet has given us relationships built on shared interests without accountability to one another. You can join the seltzer Facebook group, geek out on your shared love of carbon dioxide, but no one has to drive you to the hospital when the Soda-Stream rolls off the counter and clubs your foot. Fay writes, "A defining characteristic of community has historically been not only shared characteristics, which is the modern usage . . . , but also a sense of responsibility for others." Internet culture has led us to splinter friendship—to invite its joys but to dip out on its work.
...I've started "love scrolling" my friends—the opposite of doom scrolling. I scroll through my newsfeed and tell friends how great they're doing and how proud and happy I am for them, and I notice the warmth I feel.