To-day we are going to talk about Conversational Go Fish.

Go Fish is a card game. It usually involves the standard 52-card deck and two to five players. It mostly consists of asking other players if they have a card that you have. If they don’t, they’ll tell you, “Go fish,” and you’ll draw a card from the disorderly pile in the middle.

“Grace, do you have any sevens?”

“Yes,” I grumble, handing over my sevens. “Bushrang, do you have any fours?”

“Go fish.” He does not.

I haven’t played Go Fish (or any card games, for that matter) in ages. But I’ve had many conversations which, now that I think of it, resemble games of Go Fish. Usually they’re with people that I’ve just met, who I’ll be spending a fair stretch of time with, and whose interests I at least nominally should be aware of. They might go something like this.

“So Grace, do you follow sports?”

“No, not at all, sorry,” I say. Go fish. “Bushrang, do you read contemporary novels?”

“Haven’t read in ages,” he replies. Go fish. “Do you watch Marvel movies?”

“No, I’ve been living under a rock.” Go fish. “Do you, uh, do any cooking?”

“Not really, I just use Doordash.” Go fish. “Do you follow any YouTubers?”

“Sorry, don’t get a lot of internet under my rock.” Go fish. “Do you play any instruments?”

“Not since I stopped in third grade.” Go fish. “Do you lift?”

“I’ve actually never stepped foot in a gym, sorry!” Go fish. “But have you ever gone fishing?”

“Nah.” Go fish. “Have you heard the good news about our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?”

And so on, and so forth, until we find a common interest that we can talk about and bond over. We ought to find one eventually, whether it takes one question or twenty questions of Conversational Go Fish. There are only so many cards in the deck. There are only so many interests.

Conversational Go Fish may be a perfectly serviceable way to conduct a conversation with someone new, but to me it feels a bit unsatisfying. I know we’re hunting for common ground, but if the questions go on for too long it feels forced. We’re stuck in this weird pattern, this social purgatory, this unholy cross-breed between computer algorithm and genuine conversation. One or both of the parties will probably cut the process off out of impatience, terminating the search for common ground prematurely. “She doesn’t watch sports or Marvel movies or YouTube? Let’s just face it, we’re very different people.”

How do you avoid Conversational Go Fish? One simple way goes like this.

“So Grace, do you follow sports?”

“Not really. Do you?”

“Yeah, I’m a huge Bucks fan. The way they crushed the Rams last night was crazy!”*

And then you listen to Bushrang wax lyrical about how the Bucks crushed the Rams. It’s easier for people to talk than to listen. Then at the end (assuming there is an end) Bushrang feels good about having gotten the chance to talk to someone about his passion, and you may have made a new friend.

At the expense of talking less, I find I get a lot of social mileage out of being a good listener.

*Note to self: Learn how to actually write sports fan dialogue.