Alright folks, grab a cuppa, let me walk you through how I actually tested those friendship metaphors in real life. Sounds kinda fluffy, right? But honestly? It worked way better than I expected.
So here’s how it started. I was hanging out with my buddy Mike last Tuesday, just grabbing burgers. We were talking about work, family stuff, the usual. But I kinda felt… off. Like we were skimming the surface, you know? Felt more like small talk than catching up properly. Didn’t feel strong. That got me thinking – how do we actually say what this friendship feels like?
Dusting Off The Old Metaphor Idea
I remembered reading ages ago about metaphors shaping how we think. Figured, why not try it with friendships? Seemed simple enough. Goal was straightforward: make things clearer and maybe stronger between me and a couple close pals. No fancy plans, just testing the water.
First step? Spot the vague bits. I thought about different chats with different people. With Mike, it felt like navigating fog sometimes – both of us unsure what the other really meant. With my friend Sarah, things felt solid but maybe… unchanging? Like a sturdy old bridge, reliable but maybe needing a fresh coat of paint. So, jotted down those feelings:
- Mike: Foggy path, fuzzy radio signal.
- Sarah: Old stone bridge, reliable truck.
- Sam (another pal): Spinning plates (always juggling time!).
The Actual Conversation Attempts
Right, time for the awkward part. Next time I saw Mike, I just went for it. Said something like, “Hey Mike, you know how sometimes when we talk about that project, it feels like we’re walking through fog? Trying to find each other?” Stopped there. Saw his eyebrows go up. He actually laughed and said, “Yeah! Foggy! Exactly. I never know if you’re annoyed or just thinking!” That instantly made something fuzzy super clear.
With Sarah? I went a bit more serious. Told her, “Sarah, our friendship feels rock solid, like that bridge near the park. But sometimes it feels like the bridge needs checking, maybe we skip deeper stuff?” She paused, nodded slowly, and said, “I get it. Reliable truck feels safe, but yeah, maybe the truck needs an adventure.” Boom. We landed on needing more “adventure” talk instead of just logistics.
And Sam? Simple. Just asked, “Dude, you spinning too many plates to hang out next week?” He groaned and instantly replied, “Seriously, dropping them left and right!” Instantly understood his busyness wasn’t personal.
What Actually Changed?
The surprising thing? It wasn’t just about naming a feeling. It changed the conversation right after. With Mike, once the “fog” was out there, we both started asking clearer questions: “You mean like thick fog or light mist?” Sounds silly, but it worked. Reduced misunderstandings fast. With Sarah, talking about needing “adventure” led us to plan a simple hike instead of our usual coffee. Small step! With Sam, understanding the spinning plates meant suggesting shorter, catch-up calls instead of long meals.
Biggest takeaway? These metaphors aren’t magic poetry. They’re just tools to point at the fuzzy bits we struggle to describe. Sharing them felt vulnerable, yeah – like “Here’s my weird brain picture of us.” But that little risk cracked things open. Made expectations clearer, the bond more visible. Like wiping steam off a mirror. Still gotta practice, sometimes the metaphor lands sideways (“A garden? What?!”), but when it clicks? Totally worth the fumble.
