Consequential Strangers Offer Something a Soulmate Can’t

How to Get a Surprising and Healthful “Shot” of Connection from Someone You Barely Know

This piece also appears on Medium

A Vaccine Against Loneliness

Every morning around nine, Rocky and I trot off to Le Champ de Mars, the large expanse of lawn, trees, paths, and bushes in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. A tourist mecca in a city that, for over a year, has been without tourists, this verdant tribute to the Roman god of war is my “dog park.”

Rocky runs like a rabbit, and I schmooze with whomever shows up — often, twenty or more dogs and their caretakers. Our dogs run, we yell for them and at them. We’ll lament each canine idiosyncrasy, share trainers’ names, and laugh at how we, the humans, cluck and fret over our wayward charges.

Every day, my dog park buddies give me a dose of what I need to survive in a new city, during a pandemic, no less: consequential strangers — acquaintances who are not family or close friends.

I don’t really “know” them, only sketches of their biographies and their pets’ names. But they recognize Rocky and me, greet us, and seem happy to see us. Because of them, we belong.

We Need an Array of Relationships

Man/woman cannot live by self alone. And while it’s great to have a loving partner, family members and long-term friends to rely on, we also need a network of less-close acquaintances, particularly during a health crisis.

In 1991, Dr. Sheldon Cohen began a series of “viral challenge” experiments to assess how social networks impact disease. It all began with this intriguing classified ad:

ATTENTION! PITT/CMU COLD STUDY

Participants in this research study will be exposed to a common cold virus and isolated in a local hotel. Qualified volunteers (ages 18–55) may receive up to $800 upon completion of the study.

The 276 volunteers were given a battery of physical tests, as well as questionnaires that measured their “social integration” — how many different types of relationships each had, ranging from near-strangers to soulmates.

Once sequestered, each volunteer was “given” the rhinovirus via nose drops. The participants had private rooms and their own TVs. In common areas, they kept a safe social distance, so as not to contaminate each other. They submitted daily sputum samples and turned in their used tissues (for the researchers to measure mucus output).

The volunteers with more “integrated” social networks caught only a mild cold or none at all were those. That is, they had an array of different types relationships — some specialized to meet a particular need, some the result of being at a particular time and place — work, gym, or, as in my case, the dog park.

Tons of research confirm his findings. For example, in reviewing the lives and deaths of 6800+ Californians, epidemiologist Lisa Berkman found that those who lack social connections are more likely to die nine years earlier than the socially integrated.

Why Casual Relationships Matter

Don’t beat yourself up if you tend to minimize the importance of casual relationships. Romantic myths and pop culture elevate and stress the importance of having a so-called significant other. It’s as if your beloved (assuming you have one) is the only relationship that matters.

Let’s get real. All relationships are significant. Some last; some don’t. But in each one, you get something. You interact, you react, you learn, you feel emotions.

Far from being insignificant, in fact, consequential strangers benefit us in ways our intimates can’t:

• They have access to different information. We choose spouses and friends who are like us. They know what we know. As sociologist Mark Granovetter showed in his ground-breaking studies of “weak ties,” you’re more likely to hear about job opportunity from acquaintances who — literally and figuratively — come from a different “place.”
• They expose us to new ideas. If you plan an outing with a sibling, a spouse, or an old friend, you probably know what they’ll order from a menu and whether they will chose a chick flick over an action movie. Intimates provide a sense of stability and continuity, but they’re also predictable. In contrast, consequential strangers open our eyes to new possibilities and experiences.
• They allow us to try on new personas. With consequential strangers, there are no expectations. They don’t compare you against an earlier time. You start from scratch and, therefore, you can experiment, wear a new hat. Watch a partner or a close friend interact with a new group of people. He might be more shy or more animated than he is at home. He might say or do something you’ve never seen and don’t expect — sit down at the piano, talk about art, rave about a meal. He has a new audience.
• It’s easier to listen when a consequential stranger offers advice. We grow accustomed to our loved ones. We know their stories. We can finish each others’ sentences. Sometimes — shhh…don’t tell anyone — we tune out. And then this happens: A work colleague offices offers advice that you share with your partner. “Such a good idea, don’t you think? It blew me away!” Your partner doesn’t share your excitement: “Hey! I told you the same thing last week, but you didn’t bother to listen to me.” Truth is, we are more likely to listen to a near-stranger. There’s no history, no agenda, no familiarity.

How to Cultivate Consequential Strangers

For this, we turn to Zelda, who almost made it to 105.

“You have a nice swing, dear,” she said, exiting the tennis court. Head-to-toe in white, deeply tanned, and holding an oversized racquet that looked too big for her tiny frame, I would soon find out she was 92.

She had me at a nice swing, and her velvet-blue eyes sealed the deal. I was in my late sixties, my first time back on the courts after a 25-year-hiatus.

Recalling our meeting, Zelda would later explain, “You looked interesting, so I decided to pick you up.”

She had all the best skills of a gigolo — charm, wit, and warmth — except it wasn’t an act. She was always herself.

Zelda intuitively knew the importance of consequential strangers. Family members long since departed, as well as most of her close friends, she needed to “replenish” her social network.

Zelda chatted with people she met on her daily 3-mile walk, neighbors at the pool, the building staff, the check-out person at the supermarket. She also took her act on the road, regaling her peers in “senior communities” with wise quotes, funny poems, and dirty jokes. Everyone loved her. She always left ’em wanting more.

We’d all do well to take a page from Zelda’s playbook!

Make time and space for social “shots.”

Be intentional. Push yourself, if necessary. When Sheldon Cohen analyzed volunteers’ health histories in his cold study, he concluded that the risk of “lower levels of social integration” — not widening and diversifying your connections — is right up there with cigarette smoking. It’s not enough to eat well, exercise, and get plenty of sleep. You need to make time for people. You don’t necessarily need a lot of them — we all have different capacities for socializing. Seek out a variety of people from different spheres and backgrounds.

Look around you; social possibilities are everywhere.

Unless you’re alone on a desert island, a “shot” of otherness isn’t hard to come by. Every encounter with another human has potential. Join a group, volunteer for a cause you believe in, start a conversation with someone you know by sight but have never approached. If you’re a walker, start to notice who’s out at the same time.

As we emerge into a post-COVID world with fewer restrictions on our comings and goings, dredge up the courage to make conversation — on line, in stores, on public transportation. If a server has a tag, use his name.

Face-to-face chats are of course preferable but not always possible. If necessary, look for new connections online — play Bridge, join a chat community, download app like Zoom and Clubhouse, where you actually talk. If you write for Medium, start conversations here!

Just shoot for brief encounters.

It doesn’t have to be a meal or even a cup of coffee. Talk to a neighbor on your street or in the lobby of a building. Check out the person next to you at a bus stop or in a waiting room. Do you like his sneakers? the color of her hair? Say something (but only if you mean it). Share something (but not too intimate) about yourself (“I usually take the bus here but I walked today because…”)

The exchange might end with “Thank you,” or “Get lost.” The person might not feel like talking” — or your hello might blossoms into something more. The chat might last only a few minutes. You might never see the person again — or you might not want to. That’s okay. Even fleeting relationships matter. You tried; you had a moment.

Use casual relationships to strengthen your more intimate ties.

It’s counterintuitive. How can having a relationship with a gym buddy or a colleague or that nice lady at the dry cleaner’s affect what goes on at home? For one thing, when we spend time with others, we learn, grow as individuals and thereby become more interesting and more curious. We bring that enhanced self home.

Equally important, it’s not a great idea to put all your emotional eggs into one basket. Sure, you should share and be honest with your beloved, but no one can be your “everything.” Consequential strangers allow you to vent in ways a partner can’t. They offer you fresh perspective and perhaps — like that colleague in your office — they suggest an option or a way of looking at a situation that you never considered.

(Note: the above assumes the consequential stranger relationship is platonic and therefore no threat to your beloved!)

The Bottom Line

Consequential strangers are wash-and-wear relationships. I don’t have to explain myself to my dog-park buddies. I don’t have to remember their birthdays. They might be disappointed, but they don’t get angry when I don’t show up.

And yet, while I’m there with them, talking about the weather, the city, where to get vaccinated and, of course, our dogs — I get a boost of endorphins, an exposure to something new and different. They are from all walks of life and, often, from other countries. As such, they become unexpected teachers and guides.

Most days, I leave smiling. It’s all the socializing I need. I feel connected to something that’s bigger than me.