Why People Crave Connections

Human beings are social creatures. We crave connections and close relationships, feeding off our interactions with others. It’s no surprise that love and belonging comprise the third level of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, next up in terms of significance after our physiological and safety needs.

Even introverts like me can’t resist the desire for social interaction. Why else would I have accepted a lunch invitation from a childhood acquaintance I hadn’t seen in over 30 years?

To be honest, her name had barely crossed my mind during most of that time. We were friendly with one another in high school, but we weren’t “close friends.” So, when I ran into her last week, and she suggested that we “grab lunch,” I wondered whether we’d have anything to talk about. It was entirely possible that I'd have more in common with the guy pumping gas next to me at the gas station on the way into town than I would with someone I’d lost touch with decades ago.

But, the unexpected invitation got me thinking about how lucky I’ve been to connect with so many different, interesting, and absolutely lovely groups of people over the years.

• Friends from my childhood…from high school…and then college.
• Co-workers I met when I was a young professional.
• People my husband and I got to know when we were first married and living in a new town.
• Countless others we later crossed paths with through our children—teachers, coaches, and parents of their classmates, teammates, and close friends.

In each of those situations, it took some element of common ground to draw us together, regardless of our own places in life. It didn't matter whether someone was single, married, or divorced...a stay-at-home parent or working full-time...what their politics were...how much income they reported each year...or if they'd grown up in our town or just moved in. I’m not typically the one to strike up a conversation, but with little effort, I’ve bonded with some of the nicest people in places like the sidelines of a soccer field and the seats of a school auditorium.

I suppose that’s why civic organizations like Rotary and Kiwanis clubs have been around for so long. Why the fellowship hall after church has such appeal. And why networking events attract people from all walks of life.

Going it alone can be, well—lonely. The journey can be more satisfying when others are along for the ride as humans exchange energy with one another. We comfort, motivate, and inspire each other. Keep each other company throughout life’s ups and downs.

On a more superficial level, perhaps that’s why binge TV has increased in popularity. Something as simple as a Netflix series can connect us with characters we think about, talk about, and care about in an odd way.

When I was in college, I tried my best not to schedule a class at 1:00 pm because I had to watch Days of Our Lives. I’d call home afterward to talk with my mom about Bo and Hope, Marlena and Roman, and Stefano DiMara—all household names by then and strangely a part of my life.

Fictional characters obviously can’t reciprocate a connection, but they can still present an undeniable pull.

Then there’s social media. Connection via a digital device. There are reasons people are drawn to Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, and Tik Tok. Those platforms allow us to connect with others while still maintaining some semblance of distance.

Is that healthy? Or not? Will what we’re gaining in access to otherwise unattainable people and information eventually compromise our ability to truly connect on the most human level? And how much does the "closeness" of a connection matter?

Like most things, it depends.

It’s obviously easier to talk with your besties about your most intimate problems, and not everyone in your life can (or should) be trusted with your innermost thoughts. But one of the most significant takeaways from having lunch with my “old friend” yesterday is that connection itself has great value.

I returned home from that lunch refreshed—full of a lightness and a sense of ease that I hadn’t anticipated. It’s hard to describe, but simply reconnecting with someone who grew up in my hometown was a real treat.

We reminisced about the streets we used to walk, the shops we used to frequent, and the teachers we shared. We tried to jog each other’s memories about kids we went to school with—who married whom, who moved where, and whom we hadn’t heard about in a very long time.

We also took the time to get to know each other “in the now.” We’re both mothers, struggling through this new phase of life with our kids grown and gone. We swapped stories about our unfulfilled career ambitions, looming retirement decisions, and the constant questioning of our “true purpose” in life. What a nice surprise to discover that we had more in common than I initially imagined.

That wasn’t the first time I enjoyed reconnecting with friends this summer. My college roommate paid a quick visit in July, and two of my close high school friends came over for dinner one afternoon. I'd been in touch with all of them, just hadn't prioritized our relationships in a very long time. After I did, I was reminded again of how special it is to step outside your comfort zone and spend one-on-one time with people who are important to you.

It’s too easy to become set in your ways and stop seeking out social situations. Ask my husband. He’ll tell you. We’re often home alone on a Friday night because we’re too tired or unmotivated to find something to do. But when we do reach out to another couple and ask them to join us for a drink or a bite to eat, we usually don’t regret it.

Human connection has definitely evolved over the years. It’s simpler to touch base or make plans than it was even a decade ago. When we first got married, my husband (who’s in sales and used to travel a lot), had to seek out a pay phone at a highway rest stop in order to let me know what time he’d be home for dinner. And when we wanted to find out what our friends were doing, we often had to leave a voicemail message and wait for a callback.

Nowadays, instant gratification is the norm. We can arrange to see and share our locations in real-time. We have 24-hour-access to the comings and goings of those in our social circle and beyond.

As a parent, that comforts me in many ways. I like knowing that if my kids need me, they can reach me at any time, and following them on social media is a great way to see what they’re up to between visits or phone calls.

At the same time, I wonder what’s happening to the next generation’s ability to truly connect in a positive and meaningful way. They don’t seem to crave face-to-face interaction the same way older generations do (generalizing of course), and sometimes too much access to information can be damaging.

Take for instance all the birthday parties that you weren’t invited to as a child. What you didn’t know about, couldn’t hurt. Now it’s nearly impossible to avoid learning about social functions that don’t include you. It’s not easy to see your kids sit home and watch something playing out on social media, wishing that they’d been invited and wondering why they hadn’t. FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) is alive and well!

I don’t doubt that Abraham Maslow was right. Humans are clearly motivated by a need to feel loved and accepted.

I do wonder what Maslow would have said about the changes in the world since 1943 when he published his paper about self-actualization and his theory about the hierarchy of needs.

Are digital connections a satisfactory substitute for more traditional human interaction? Do they support or lead to a true sense of belonging? I doubt it. And it still takes effort to connect with people—even more work to maintain and strengthen the close relationships critical to our overall well-being.

I’m not dismissing the value of social media and digital devices, just offering a reminder that connecting with people the good old-fashioned way can feel great. I know I’ll be thinking about that lunch date for a very long time—how it warmed my heart and filled my soul.

And to think I almost turned down the invitation for no good reason. Next time, I won’t even hesitate. I hope you won’t either.