What the wait protects you from

Of the four reasons in chapter 2, the last was protection, and it's the one people are least likely to say out loud. While you don't get in touch, nothing can go wrong. The friendship stays in a kind of suspension, where it might still be as good as ever. A message puts that to the test. It might come back warm. It might come back as "Hi! Good to hear from you, all fine here, mad busy, hope you're well x", and you'd know what that meant. Or it might not come back at all.

I think this fear deserves respect, because rejection hurts. People who say it's silly to be scared of a text message have forgotten what it's like to send one that matters and watch the screen. So let me look at what the risk is.

Start with how likely the bad outcome is. Chapters 3 and 4 covered part of this. People underestimate how welcome their contact will be. There's another line of research about what people think of us after they've talked to us. Erica Boothby, Gus Cooney, Gillian Sandstrom and Margaret Clark ran a set of studies in which pairs of people talked and then each rated how much they liked the other and how much they thought the other liked them. People consistently underestimated how much their conversation partner liked them and enjoyed their company. The researchers called it the liking gap. They found it between strangers meeting in a laboratory, between first-year students getting to know the others in their hall of residence, and between members of the public at a workshop. Among the students it lasted for several months.

Those studies were about new acquaintances, so they don't speak directly to your friend from the old office. But consider what they suggest about your private estimate of how much people like you. That estimate is what drives the fear of a flat reply, and if it's like most people's it's set too low. Your friend spent six years of Thursdays with you by choice. The estimate that says they might not want to hear from you comes from the same faculty that tells people at workshops they've made a poor impression when they've made a good one.

Next, look at what the bad outcome would be. Suppose you do get the brisk, busy reply. It's a little deflating. It may also mean exactly what it says. They're busy, they were pleased to hear from you, and they answered in the ninety seconds they had. People's replies are governed far more by their week than by their feelings about you. A short reply on a Tuesday is weak evidence about a friendship. You can take it at face value, leave it a few weeks, and try once more with a specific suggestion.

Suppose you get no reply at all. That stings, and chapter 14 deals with it. But think about where it leaves you compared with now. At the moment you have a friendship you're not using, and a small recurring pang whenever you pass the name. After a message with no reply, you'd have a friendship you're not using, and some information. Nothing has been taken from you that you currently have. The suspended state feels like it's preserving something, but what it preserves is a possibility you never draw on.

And consider the cost of the protection. The wait protects you from a small chance of a mild disappointment. To do that it rules out the large chance of getting your friend back. You pay that price in full every time, with every person, and it adds up to the quiet described in chapter 1. If you made this trade once it might be reasonable. But the wait is a standing policy, and under it you've given up most of the friendships you could have to avoid an occasional sting.

I'm not going to tell you the sting won't come. Send enough messages and one will fall flat. What I'd ask you to notice is that you already know how to get over a message that falls flat. It takes an evening. The quiet goes on for much longer than that and doesn't ease by being left alone.