About a year ago I had a hangout with a long-time close friend who I hadn’t seen in a while. For reasons I couldn’t totally discern, I felt uncomfortable during the hangout. I felt like my friend was being strangely distant or cordial with me. So I said out loud: I feel like you’re being distant with me right now. This did not land well, and the rest of the hangout was very awkward.
In the weeks afterward I recounted this story to my friend Sid, and he said he was unsurprised that the conversation didn’t go well. When someone is tense, asking them “why are you tense right now?” will feel like an attack, and they are only going to get more tense as a result of that. Okay, I thought. Don’t tell someone that they’re being tense next time. But I was still left with the question: what should I do in that situation?
Until then, I’d operated on the principle that when interacting with a friend, it’s always a good idea to call out the uncomfortable, especially if you’re close friends. If I feel any inkling of unease in my interactions (or I infer that the other person is feeling uneasy), I need to say that out loud. Otherwise I’m not being an honest person. Real friends are supposed to be completely transparent with each other, and when there’s a problem, they talk about it until the problem is solved.
Now I recognize that talking about things often helps, but it can sometimes be a distraction. It all depends on what is motivating you to want to talk about the thing. Why do you want to call out the discomfort you’re feeling? Are you doing it out of genuine care for the other person or the friendship, or because you want to take control of the situation? The same words – “you seem uneasy right now” – can be said in very different ways, which will evoke very different responses. “You seem uneasy, is something up?” can mean I feel uncomfortable right now and I need you to fix that for me, or it can mean I care about you and want to see how you are feeling right now.
Nowadays I’m more aware of my own motivations in an interaction like that, and I can get closer to the heart of what I actually want to say. I no longer expect every interaction to be completely effortless, even with my best friends. So if I feel uneasy when hanging out with someone, the first thing I figure out is whether that is actually a problem that needs to be solved. Most of the time it is not: I can enjoy the interaction even if there are moments of discomfort. And sometimes the discomfort is a problem I want to solve, and in those cases I can bring it up, but without needing the other person to respond in any particular way.
My understanding of “authenticity” has begun to shift as a result. In any given moment, you have enormous latitude in what you talk about, what you direct your shared attention to. Being authentic does not mean vocalizing the most intrusive thought that pops into your head. It’s more like: confronting the situation in front of you with clarity. It’s less about disclosing everything, and more about seeing the other person exactly as they are, despite whatever gap in feeling or understanding might exist between you.
Very wise. It's always a dance of the emotions: Abrupt "authenticity" is like stepping on your partners toes. Thanks!