Of the many brilliant songs by the always brilliant Sparks, whom I recently fell in love with,1 this one has got to be my favourite.
For years, I’ve wondered why certain people in my life that “I like very much”—a point of emphasis whenever I bring this up with my partner—just aren’t any fun to be around. I’ve repeatedly quizzed friends whose company I enjoy why it works with us and not with those handful of people whose presence bores me to tears.
Is it incompatible humour? Is there a language barrier? Maybe a mutual lack of interest? Are they too laid-back/high-strung/quiet/verbose? What is it? Why do I never enjoy hanging out with these few individuals, no matter how doggedly I try—again and again and again?
Satisfactory answers from fun friends not forthcoming, I’d rack my brains to try and explain this great mystery. I’d agonise over the all-important decision—do I keep trying, or do I give up and chalk the failed friendship up to incompatibility. There’s nothing wrong with either of us—we’re just not meant to be.
Well, as it turns out, there is something wrong with one of us. And it’s not them.
It’s me.
It’s not you, it’s me
No wonder all those years of analysis and hypotheses, repeatedly going over each and every unsatisfactory interaction, didn’t bring me any closer to the truth. I was so busy pinning the blame on the guiltless party—you don’t ask me enough questions, you don’t share my sense of humour… you, you, you—that I was blind to the fact that it was me, me, me. It has always been me.
They say if a problem repeatedly occurs in your life, there’s a fair chance you are the problem. In my case, this is 100% true.
All those years not enjoying so-and-so’s company wasn’t because they’re too quiet or unfunny or boring, it’s because I’ve been approaching the meet-ups all wrong.
Instead of coming with a curious mind, eager to hear what has been happening in their life, to learn more about them as a person, I have been showing up with one mission only—to make it fun. For the both of us, yes, but mostly for me.
Ask more questions, try different jokes, steer the conversation away from awkward silences. I’d resolve to do all these things hoping that this time things will be different, that I’ll finally enjoy hanging out with this person and our relationship will be saved.
It’s no wonder I failed every time. And with each “no fun” meet-up, the relationship teeters ever closer to its seemingly inevitable end.
It’s not about me
The answer—that it’s always been me—came to me as I sat opposite one of these individuals and found myself suddenly delighted to hear about their lives—for the first time fully engaged. Hours flew by and when it was time to leave, I didn’t want to.
There was no lightbulb moment of epiphany, just a slow dawning realisation that, hey, I am having fun. And I am having fun not because I’m trying to, but because I’m not. I am having fun because for once I’m not thinking about myself—I’m thinking only about the person sitting on the opposite side of the table who’s taken time off their busy schedule to share this meal with me.
I don’t know what’s responsible for this shift—growth works in mysterious ways. But for a while now I’ve been enjoying every single interaction I’ve had with friends and acquaintances old and new.
There is no longer a side conversation with myself where I wonder what to say next, if I’m having fun, why conversation isn’t flowing as effortlessly as it did last time, how to tell that funny story. For the first time, my mind is quiet and I’m fully focused on what the other person is saying.
Since this shift, there are no more “fun” and “no fun” friends, only people I’d love to know better.
I’m convinced it’s because I’ve been approaching my meet-ups with a more curious mind, going in with the goal of learning more about the other person. After years of me, me, me, I’m finally beginning to show up for them.
And I’ve been rewarded with so many great conversations, deepening connection, and countless moments of joy. Not to mention so much fun.
We all know you can’t force friendships, but I’m just beginning to learn that you can help a friendship flourish by simply being a better friend. I hope I now am.
What do you think?
All this time “wishing you were fun” when the culprit is me. I’m sure glad I’ve changed, and I plan to continue to show up in a more selfless way for my partner, my family, my friends, anyone whose path I’m lucky to cross.
Do you show up for others?
When you meet up with friends, do you go to have a good time, or to be there for them? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this with a friend you love sharing a laugh with.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash
Thanks to the excellent The Sparks Brothers documentary on Netflix. I knew nothing of Sparks before my partner got me to watch this. But by the end I’d become a fan. What an amazing band, and possibly the best documentary—on any topic—I’d ever seen.