The name in the list

It's Sunday afternoon, about four, and you're on your phone.

You're looking for a plumber's number, and on the way down the list your thumb passes a name. It's your friend from the old office. For six years you had lunch together most Thursdays. You knew each other's bosses by their faults, and you knew each other's families by name. When you left, you both said it wouldn't change anything.

You open the conversation. The last message is from you. "We must catch up soon!" Underneath it is a thumbs up from them. It's dated fourteen months ago.

You feel a small pang, and then several thoughts arrive at once. It's been over a year, and they haven't been in touch either. If they'd wanted to meet they could have said so at any time. They've got the new job and the children, so they're probably busy. It would be odd to message now, out of nowhere, and you'd have to explain the gap. Anyway, you sent the last proper message. It's their turn.

You close the conversation and find the plumber. The evening goes by. You make something to eat and watch two episodes of something. It's a perfectly all right Sunday, and at the end of it you haven't spoken to anyone since Friday. You notice that, briefly, and then don't think about it.

Nothing dramatic has happened here. You haven't fallen out with your friend. If you passed them in the street you'd both be delighted and stand there talking for twenty minutes. The friendship is still there, only switched off, and it's waiting for somebody to switch it back on. Each of you believes that somebody should be the other one.

I'll use a few terms throughout. The wait is the habit itself, holding off from getting in touch until the other person does. The first move is any contact that you start. It might be a message, a call, an invitation or a knock on a door. The tally is the running count of whose turn it is. The quiet is what builds up when the wait goes on for long enough across enough people. You have fewer plans and fewer calls, and you start to think of yourself as someone who doesn't see many people.

The wait has some regular features. This list is my own observation and not a research finding.

It feels like politeness or dignity, never like avoidance. You're not hiding from your friend. You're respecting their busy life, or declining to chase.

It treats silence as a message. They haven't rung, and that's taken as telling you something about where you stand with them.

It gets stronger with time. After two months a message would have been easy. After fourteen it seems to need an explanation. The longer you wait, the more reason there is to keep waiting.

And it's invisible from outside. Nobody sees you not sending a message. Nothing marks the moment a friendship lapses, so it costs you nothing at the time.

If you're willing, do two small things before chapter 2. First, write down the names of people you've thought about in the past month and didn't contact. I mean people you like, and who came to mind because of a song or a place or a name in a list. Second, look at your last ten exchanges with friends or family and note who started each one. You don't have to act on either list. They're so you know the size of what we're discussing, and the second one may surprise you in either direction.