wtf?: who’s listening?

by Kelly Ramundo

How long has it been since someone has really listened to you? I mean really and authentically showed interest in something you were saying? WTF?

Last week a message appeared on Facebook from two sisters I went to college with but knew only very casually. They would be in Madrid for three days at the start of a pan-European trip and would love to see me. Being a big fan of showing off my adoptive city, we set a date to meet up Tuesday night for dinner and drinks.

I didn’t really know what to expect from making plans to spend an entire evening with people I’ve had no contact with whatsoever over the last five years, and only very minimal contact during the four years when we shared a campus and little else.

I remembered them as being nice, down-to-earth girls. Not the catty, over-privileged socialite types, nor the complete squares who wouldn’t know how to have a good time even if you locked them in a room with Amy Winehouse and Robert Downey Jr.

Despite my somewhat fuzzily-remembered fondness, on Tuesday afternoon a moment of minor panic struck me. What if we really didn’t have much in common? What if I got trapped in a night-long commitment with people that I now had nothing much to talk about with or didn’t really like that much?

My college 5-year reunion had been the weekend before. I figured I would be able to pepper them on who got fat, who had babies, who was making millions, if all other avenues dead-ended. Just in case, I called a girlfriend as a back-up plan. If I was bored out of my mind, she would also be able to co-recite some funny stories about our adventures over the years in Madrid. As it was, it was going to be two-on-one, and I had the added pressure of playing the host. Yes, my friend was going to have to come.

When my guests arrived at my door to head to the restaurant, I barely got out of my front door when I was met with a barrage of questions. “How long have you been in Madrid?” – “Do you love it?” — “Will you stay forever?” – “What are you doing here?” – “Are you happy?” — “Tell us everything!”

Starting with the beginning of my journey across the Atlantic, I launched into my not uncomplicated story. We settled into the restaurant and I was still talking; every one of my ramblings would provoke another insightful question about me. I realized that after 20 minutes, I had yet to find out what they were doing, and had to literally grab the conversation by the horns, and steer it away from me and into their corner. I found out they were both in film school, one studying to be a screenwriter, the other a professor of film. Then they wanted to know more about me.

As the night progressed, the conversation turned to our school days, common friends. My friends arrived, and we spoke about politics, current events, banalities. Eventually my friends parted ways, and the three of us walked towards my house. It was 1:30am; I assumed they would be jetlagged. When they asked me if they could see where I lived I was genuinely surprised. They came up, and right away asked to see a copy of something I had written, and a picture of my boyfriend. Again, being the recipient of their complete interest startled me.

They spent the next two hours pouring over my newspaper clippings that were around, looking at pictures of my assorted trips on my computer to my narration, and being genuinely “so excited” about how well they perceived me to be doing.

When we finally parted, I was on cloud 9, but couldn’t quite put my finger on why. What I realized soon after is how refreshing it is when someone takes a genuine interest in you for no apparent reason. I’m not talking about your mother, or your friends, who are pretty much stuck in the role of caring. I’m talking about people that have no vested interest in you, and who you may never see again.

The modern human condition has become one in which we are profoundly wrapped up in our lives: we wear headphones on the metro, read alone in cafes, rush everywhere and very seldom give the time of day to someone we do not already share a valued history with or do not expect something out of in the future. Often we do not cultivate new friendships to spare ourselves the effort.

The way these siblings received me was so utterly unexpected, I was caught off guard. It seemed strange, but their barrage of inquires into my life made me generally more excited about it. I told my stories with more comedy, more flare. I was genuinely interested in them.

Through my incessant talking, I not only was able to verbalize many things I had obviously felt but that had seldom managed to surface to the communication level — how lucky I feel to have found a companion that is above all gentle-hearted; to what extent my friends in this far-away habitat have become indispensible to my happiness; how for the first time in a long time, I feel like I am on the right professional track. But I also found myself wondering why we had not been better friends back when we lived on the same continent.

As the night drew to a close, I did eventually ask about the reunion, but found that I actually cared much less about other past acquaintances than the ones in front of me. I pondered the power of being unconditionally genuine. I invariably thought about the conflicts plaguing our world, and that how among those running it, listening is considered a less effective tool than threatening. I agree with Obama in that the world would be a more civil place if we all just offered our ears. I agree with my mother that niceness really is contagious.

tagged under:america, living abroad, spain