I’m new to Sonoma County and actively in pursuit of new friends, new community, and a new sense of belonging. After 17 years of feeling very embedded in my beloved Muir Beach, I feel oddly vulnerable in a town where I barely know anyone. With my new empty nest, with my housemate of 13 years now in New Hampshire, with my parents both gone, with most of my family 3 time zones away, with only my partner Jeff for connection, co-regulation, fun, and support, I feel oddly skinless. Unprotected. Wobbly. Scared.
It doesn’t help that the world is the way it is right now. But I suspect that even if that were still the case, if I was surrounded by my wonderful Muir Beach neighbors and knew that they had my back, and I had theirs, if the shit hit the fan, I’d feel less unsteady. Now my partner is off at his new job and I’m home with the dog, by myself. It’s weird. Quiet. Just our chickens cheeping away and the wind chimes blowing in the wind. As soon as dusk hits, the frogs from the creek in our backyard will pipe up.
Being relatively isolated here is requiring me to do something I haven’t had to do in a long time, something most of my parts actively resist. I’m going to have to put myself out there in situations where I’m surrounded by strangers who might be open to meeting new people. I’m going to have to push my parts out of their comfort zone, assert myself vulnerably, and ask if I can sit down and talk to someone.
I’m thinking of joining a square dancing club. Or taking a sewing class at the local library. Maybe there’s a local band that needs a background vocalist or an artists’ coop I can join. Yesterday, this meant joining a local wine club that was a having a members’ picnic among the grapevines. As someone who is most comfortable with depth and intimacy with my close inner circle peeps, milling among strangers while day drinking is not my favorite thing to do, but it’s a start.
I was so tempted to just sit at a small private table with Jeff and my dog, but that would defeat the point. So I left Jeff to work on his writing in a back corner and tried to read faces to see who would be open to a stranger introducing herself. I chose a picnic table with four vivacious women in brightly colored sundresses and one little girl. I explained my situation, asked where they lived, discerned that they lived within 15 minutes of me, and asked if I could join them. They were laughing and cheerful and welcomed me with a friendly wave.
After listening to them talk for a while, I focused on the one sitting closest to me, and then dropped my favorite pick up line, which is one of many conversation starters I’ll be sharing in DATING FROM SELF, my upcoming weekend Zoom IFS workshop for anyone wanting to meet new people for romance, friendship, or whatever.
Save $100 if you register for DATING FROM SELF by May 11th at midnight Pacific Time.
Instead of “What Do You Do?” Try “What’s Your Story?”
I asked my new potential neighbor/ friend, “What’s your story?”
She’d been chattering away, but when I asked this, she stopped chatting, tilted her head to the left the way my dog does when she’s curious, and asked, “Which story?”
I said that’s the best thing about the invitation. It’s completely open-ended. Her mission, should she choose to accept it, is to answer the question in a way that guides the conversation in whatever direction she wants to lead us. It’s the opposite of asking “What do you do?” which tends to evoke a conversation about career or staying home with kids or caregiving for one’s parents. If someone wants to stop me in my tracks, all they have to do is ask me what I do. Suddenly, I’ll be rushing off to the toilet and never coming back. Because I’ve never figured out my elevator pitch well enough to be capable of answering that question in a way that steers the conversation anywhere good.
Usually, telling people what I do for a living leads to one of five unpleasant outcomes. If I tell them I’m trained as an OB/GYN, they either tell me about their horrible childbirth, their menopause, or their vaginal infection. Or they ask me to check out some mole on their skin. Or they want free medical advice. Then I have to tell them I no longer practice medicine, keep up to date on anything gynecologic, or carry malpractice insurance, so I can’t risk giving curbsides. They often look disappointed, offended, or embarrassed that they’ve overexposed themselves.
If I tell them I’ve published 8 books, they ask if they can send me their manuscript, get me to read their book, help them get an agent, or ask for free advice about publishing. Then I have to break it to them that this is how I make my living, and I can’t offer what I do for a living at no charge. And then the energy is off, and weird vibes abound.
If I tell them I work in mental health and basically function as an educator in the trauma field, they start telling me about the most hellacious trauma of their life, and the floodgates open, and suddenly we’re in floodlighting territory and neither of us quite know what to do.
I offer empathy and then consider referring them to a therapist. When discussing my work with doctors or narcissistic abuse survivors, I often end up hearing about their traumatic experiences and considering therapy referrals. However, asking “What’s your story?” has proven to be a more successful approach, allowing for a well-boundaried and enjoyable conversation. This method led to a positive interaction with a potential new friend, despite a small mishap later on. Overall, asking this question can provide valuable insight into the person you are speaking with. If you are interested in learning more ways to connect with new people, consider joining our DATING FROM SELF workshop for tips and tools on building relationships authentically. Register now to save $100 on tuition for the workshop happening on May 17-18. We look forward to meeting you and all of your parts. Please rewrite the statement.