A Case for Casual Acquaintances

Or, why it’s okay to create an anteroom of the heart.

Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

I recently sent off my acknowledgments for my book, Banyan Moon, to my fabulous editor (hi, Molly!) and joked that I’m not allowed to make any new friends or enemies between now and next spring. After writing those acknowledgments, though, I began thinking about how my friendships have evolved over the years.

There was a time when my life was crowded with friends, like a raucous house party with Ja Rule playing on a steady loop in the background, someone puking into a neighbor’s hedge while a loud couple breaks up over a stale bowl of tortilla chips. There were the work friends and college friends and random friends you met at a coffee shop. The friends of friends who wandered in with slightly bemused expressions, asking how the heck they ended up here. So much conversation, so much noise. 

But somewhere along the way, that house party emptied out for me. It got quiet. Maybe that’s just your thirties in a nutshell. Parenthood at a glance? After one party in my twenties, I remember closing the door on the last guest, then sliding down onto the floor, hands pressed against the cold, faintly sticky linoleum. As an introvert, I felt the relief of being alone with my thoughts again. I also felt the terror of it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I asked, “Is the party over for good?” 

I didn’t list a ton of friends in my acknowledgments, because I don’t have a wide circle of them. I have a lot of people towards whom I have warm feelings—but the people who I regularly keep in touch with? A tiny group. Actually, I’ve always been a little self-conscious about that. My husband, who can make a good first impression on a goat, says that it’s because I go deep, but never wide when it comes to relationships. “Your friends are your soulmates,” he says. “You don’t have time for a lot of friends. Or casual acquaintances.” And maybe that’s true. I call myself a “ride or die,” the kind of friend that squeezes you close, fights your battles, memorizes your stories like their own. I make plenty of mistakes in my relationships, but I’ll never be accused of being lukewarm.

But lately, I’ve been thinking: Wouldn’t it be sort of nice to have some in-person friends with whom you don’t wind up baring your whole soul, dragging out all the old traumas, sharing the ballooning dreams for the future? A friend you can just take a quick walk with, or sit next to at the PTO meeting, without the pressure of turning it into anything more? You’ll never have to remember their birthdays or anniversaries; you can say no to invitations with impunity. Sure, you don’t need a lot of friends for a fulfilling life. But I could use more friendly acquaintances.

People talk about casual dating. Is there such a thing as casual friending? I’m experimenting with it. There’s this cool woman who waits with me at the pick-up line after school. She recently moved here from Denmark and always wears the most stylish clogs. We chat about the weather, the upcoming Trunk or Treat event, and what kind of coffee we’re into at the moment. If we saw each other in a grocery store, we’d wave, but wouldn’t necessarily stop to talk. It’s nice, really, that feeling of unfettered cordiality. It’s light. I could use more lightness these days.

Once, I signed up for Bumble BFF, and let me tell you: It was one of my more stressful experiences, rife with performance anxiety. There were witty pick-up lines (“Tell me your best dad joke!”), the filtering of candidates with divergent values, and a few very awkward first friendship dates. (To my unending shame, I actually made up a fake excuse to leave a friend date early!) But what that experience taught me was that there are lots of perfectly nice people in the world. Some of them won’t become your best friends. Some you might literally have to block from your phone. Yet, on the whole, there are so many souls out there looking for a bit of connection, fleeting or otherwise. We can like people without loving them. A revelation for this late bloomer.

I wouldn’t trade my friends for the world. They continue to take up all the corners of my heart; my ride-or-dies. But I could stand to create a little space for casual acquaintances, too. An anteroom of the heart, where we can laugh at our kids’ exploits, trade book recommendations, and reminisce about ‘90s fashion, without the pressure to build anything more. Maybe those casual friendships will become something deeper someday. Or maybe they don’t. Either way, I won’t be sorry for opening my doors to a little more connection.

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Recent Notables

Writing

• The Time Traveler’s Husband [Cup of Jo]

• My Daughter and I Always Get Our Own Birthday Cakes [Simply Recipes]

• Hear Me Out: The Sanderson Sisters Are Surprisingly Feminist Icons [Scary Mommy]

Reading

• The Fortunes of Jaded Women by Carolyn Huynh

• Olga Dies Dreaming by Xochitl Gonzalez

• Dele Weds Destiny by Tomi Obaro

• As She Appears by Shelley Wong

• Claire of the Sea Light by Edwidge Danticat

• The Start Up Wife by Tahmima Anam

• Morning Person Fall Preview (so many good recommendations!) [Leslie Stephens’s Morning Person newsletter]

• “We Are a Picturesque Small Town and We Refuse to Be the Setting for Your Romantic Comedy” [McSweeney’s]

• This incredible Twitter thread about Hans Christian Andersen [Dana Schwartz] - Thank you, Lizzie!

• The Enduring Wisdom of ‘Goodnight Moon’ [The New York Times]

Eating

• Jeni’s Brambleberry Crisp ice cream with salted peanuts on top

• Amish-Style Apple Cinnamon Baked Oatmeal

Experiencing

• Watching my six-year-old go ham in a dollar store with a $10 gift card.

• Cat cafes. Lattes, macarons, and calicos roaming on rainbow-shaped pillows.

• Cracking open my windows in the early morning.

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