The other day I was listening to a podcast featuring Harvard professor and behavioral scientist Leslie John. She studies something called self-disclosure, which is simply the act of sharing things about ourselves with other people. Her research focuses on how those moments of sharing create closeness between people.
As I listened, I found myself smiling because it put scientific language to something I’ve been noticing for years. We tend to think intimacy is something physical. The research suggests it often starts with conversation. What surprised me was the type of conversation. I assumed intimacy grew from the big moments. The heartfelt conversations. The difficult confessions. The stories we’ve carried around for years. Instead, the research suggests that intimacy often begins with things that seem almost meaningless.
Think about the kinds of things people casually admit in conversation. They still can’t fold a fitted sheet. They eat shredded cheese straight out of the bag. They sleep with one foot poking out from under the covers even in the middle of winter. They own reading glasses but spend half the day looking for them. They wave back at people before realizing the other person wasn’t waving at them.
None of those are life-changing revelations. They aren’t deeply personal. Yet somehow, after hearing them, you feel like you know that person just a little bit better. What’s even more interesting is how our bodies seem to relax, and we almost always respond with one of our own.
“Oh good, I thought I was the only one.”
“I do that too.”
“Well… if we’re admitting things…”
Without anyone really noticing, the feeling in the room changes. It feels smaller, and somehow the other person feels closer. Suddenly, we feel like we know them. That made me realize how much energy we spend trying to be interesting. We talk about our careers, where we’ve traveled, what we’ve accomplished, or what we’ve been busy doing. Those conversations aren’t bad, but they often stay on the surface. Then someone casually admits that they rearrange themselves so they don’t disturb a sleeping pet, they cry during those Sarah McLachlan pet adoption commercials, or they have 47 browser tabs open because they’re definitely going to read them later.
I think we spend so much time trying to be interesting when what actually makes us interesting is being recognizable.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the people I feel closest to aren’t the ones who have lived the most extraordinary lives. They’re the ones whose ordinary moments feel familiar. The friend who can’t keep a houseplant alive. The person who talks to their dog like it’s another human being. The one who buys a bag of M&Ms “to share” and somehow finishes it before getting home.
Those little details are what make someone feel real. And perhaps that’s the real magic of conversation. The goal isn’t to impress the other person. It’s to let them recognize a little of themselves in you. That’s when things start to get good.
So, in the spirit of definitely not trying to impress you…
• I talk to myself when I’m looking for something.
• I buy snacks specifically to “save for later” and then eat them on the drive home.
• I taste the cookie dough every single time, fully aware of the risks.
• I reread my own text messages before sending them… then immediately find the typo after I hit send.
• I Google the same thing every few months because somehow my brain refuses to remember the answer.
• I can fall asleep to a podcast in three minutes but have no idea where I stopped listening.
• I apologize to my cat when I accidentally bump into him. (I mean, manners are important!)
• I practice conversations in the shower that will never actually happen.
• I always pick the shortest grocery line. It’s never actually the shortest.
• I can spend twenty minutes looking for my phone while using the flashlight on… my phone.
🙂 Charlotte
Your Turn!
Keep the spirit alive. Share something about yourself that definitely won’t impress me.
Go on… I know you’ve got one…
Wonderfully Unimpressive Things
Anonymous submissions from readers.
I tell my dog that I love them, even though they’ve never told me. As a child, I prayed to St. Anthony to help me find my lost toys. As an adult, I realized my parents were just mean. I still use my high school typing skills on my computer, but I’m careful not to smack the screen like it’s a typewriter return lever.
I have dreams where I sing Johnny Paycheck’s “Take This Job and Shove It” to my boss… then, when I dream out loud, my boss says he’ll quit before he accepts it.
All my credit card receipts are in rounded dollars. As if the government stopped caring about pennies, I shouldn’t either. I hated my high school math teacher for making me show my work, but as an accountant, I now despise “netters.”
I proudly proclaim to one and all, “if I haven’t looked at it, laid hands on it, let alone used it in a year…it goes to thrift shop…but somehow it magically seems to reappear.
I promise myself to turn in by 10 each evening and be up at 5 to get a head start on the day…well, you know…
I smell the milk every single time before I pour it, even if I bought it yesterday.
I keep buying reusable grocery bags because I always forget to bring the reusable grocery bags I already own. At this point, I probably have enough to open my own grocery store.
Waiting for someone else to be wonderfully unimpressive… don’t worry, I won’t be impressed. 😉
Still waiting… because apparently everyone is busy being fascinating.