Last week somebody told me about a restaurant I had to try. Two days later, my Uber driver was telling me about a new Netflix series. It got me thinking.
If we find a great restaurant, we can’t stop talking about it. If our mechanic is honest, we give out his number like we’re doing public service. Ask for a realtor, a barber, or even a place to get tacos, and suddenly everybody has an opinion.
But somewhere along the way, something changed.
We became really good at sharing experiences.
We quietly stopped sharing each other.
When was the last time somebody said, “You’ve got to meet my friend?”
That used to happen so naturally. You’d be standing in somebody’s kitchen after dinner, talking about absolutely nothing, and out of nowhere someone would say, “Hold on… you know who you’d get along with?” Five minutes later they’re scrolling through pictures on their phone, laughing while they try to explain why the two of you are so similar. Half the room joins the conversation. Somebody else says, “Oh yeah, I know her.” Before you know it, plans are being made for everyone to grab drinks the next weekend.
Nobody was trying to play Cupid. Half the time they were just convinced two funny people would make each other laugh.
Most of those introductions didn’t turn into relationships, but I don’t think that was ever the point. They just made saying hello a whole lot easier.
Now if someone tells you they’re single, the conversation usually goes in one of two directions. “Have you tried Hinge?” Or, if they’re really serious about finding someone, “Maybe you should look into a dating service.”
Twenty years ago, somebody’s first reaction might have been, “I know somebody.” Somewhere along the way, dating apps didn’t just replace the blind date. They replaced the friend who used to make one happen.
And honestly, I’m not sure why people stopped doing it.
Part of me wonders if introducing two people simply became too much responsibility. If the restaurant you recommend is terrible, nobody really blames you. If your mechanic turns out to be expensive, they’ll find another one. But if you introduce two people and it goes badly, somehow that feels different.
The other part of me wonders if we quietly let the apps take over that job. Why think about the single coworker you know or your friend’s cousin when an app promises hundreds of people sitting just a swipe away? We all started assuming the next introduction would come from an app rather than someone we already knew.
I just know I don’t hear people say those words much anymore, and that’s strange when you think about it. We have more ways to meet strangers than any generation before us, but somehow fewer people are willing to say, “I think you’d like this person.”
Most of those introductions never turned into relationships, and nobody expected them to. Sometimes they just led to a good conversation. Sometimes a new friendship. Sometimes nothing at all. But every once in a while, they changed somebody’s life without anybody setting out to do anything that big.
Maybe the opposite of a stranger was never a soulmate.
Maybe it was just somebody’s friend.
