A friend called me a couple weeks ago.  She lives in a far-off suburb and announced she had an afternoon doctor’s appointment in a closer to the city town this past Friday. It seemed like a good excuse to meet for lunch.

Of course, there’s a ritual around agreeing on a spot to meet. Menus and Yelp reviews are exchanged electronically. The person initiating the get together selects maybe three options considering proximity to her appointment, diet restrictions and known parking challenges.

We met at a small Vietnamese restaurant that I suggested based on her options, knowing that I like banh mi (sandwiches) and pho (flavorful broth with noodles). She confessed later that their pho was even better than Trader Joe’s version.

I started thinking about Stephan Sondheim’s musical, Company, and Patti LuPone and other Broadway stars that made some of the lyrics famous.

The term from that musical, “The Ladies Who Lunch,” had a derogatory tone when the production came out in the early seventies, but it is still popular with a fresh understanding.

Originally, the play and term trashed monied, non-working women, who had nothing much to do except socialize at upscale restaurants, talk about fashion and avoiding getting fat. Lady friends at such outings would raise glasses and make toasts over early cocktails to their own resilience, going through life as pampered women, but, in a way, not quite feeling alive.

Now, the term is about sisterhood and sharing experiences, The pandemic taught us many things beside how to use Zoom. People thrive when they feel connected. And, while technology has made some connections easier, there is nothing like an in-person gathering. Most people value the chance to spend time with people with whom they share history and hope.

And arranging lunch with a friend (no alcohol or toasts or self-mocking involved) around her schedule, at a family run diner…what could be better?

I was struck by a powerful irony. One of the top subjects for these lunchtime get togethers (and I’ve been lunching with lady friends for years) is not feeling listened to.

A major portion of lunching conversation is occupied with venting, Hurts or frustrations often come down to not feeling listened to.

At different ages, we might complain that our parents or partners, or bosses, or children don’t listen to us.  More recent table talk might reflect complaints about our doctors not listening and, fueling our justifiable outrage, we’ll often huff that that’s part of what they’re paid to do.

But here I am, venting to a friend, over a steamy, bigger than your heard bowl of pho.

Yes, often we look for people who can solve our problems. But, invariably we’re looking for affirmation that WE MATTER.

We don’t live hollow lives or lives that are purposefully filled with distractions to avoid feeling bad, like the women who were lampooned in the song, ”The Ladies who Lunch.”

We live HUMAN lives.

While we might work on developing strategies for overcoming challenges; a move or divorce, navigating through a cash flow problem, or finding a good plumber, we need to own the fact that our feelings and circumstances matter. We need to call on our inner resources AND we need others.

We’ll often vent about not feeling listened to as we sit in a corner table being listened to. I know I have, and I don’t think I’m alone.

I probably need to sharpen my communications skills when it comes to telling a friend and listener what kind of response I am seeking, but I think some responsibility comes back to me to let others know I’m available for lunch.

Making time to see others, and see yourself more clearly, is no small thing.

Re-printed with permission.

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