The right thing to do is try the Salad Test at your next lunch. Before the bill comes, point to their full plates and ask, 'See anything interesting here?'

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Ask Rebecca is smart, honest advice to readers’ questions about life, family and relationships by columnist Rebecca Eckler. Got a question for Rebecca? Submit it anonymously on the form here. You can also send an email to NPadvice@postmedia.com.

I have so many people in my life who express what a good listener I am and what a great time or conversation we have together. These comments leave me feeling confused. About a year ago, I started to pay attention to whether our dialogue, whether one-to-one or in a group, was reciprocal. It is not. No one asks me a single question. If I ask, “Would you like to hear about my darling, or my grandchildren, or where my time is spent?” they will say “yes.” However, no one, and I mean no one, asks.

I ask about everything and keep the conversation moving. I care about all these people, yet I am no longer interested in one-way talk streets. And if I don’t organize us getting together, we don’t. I am truly wondering what value there is for me to continue in these relationships.

I don’t think they would miss me, and I wonder if I would miss them. Or am I the one missing something entirely? — Always Waiting For My Turn

Being a good listener is a bit like being too good at washing dishes. Once people find out, you’re somehow always expected to do them.

I understand why people tell you you’re a good listener. You make people feel interesting and comfortable enough to tell you things. It’s a lovely quality. People love people who make them feel fascinating.

But, as you’ve discovered, it can also be exhausting.

Being a good listener seems to have turned into being the one who does all the listening. You say you’re a good conversationalist. The irony is you barely get to converse.

I understand why that hurts. You feel invisible and unappreciated. It’s hard not to wonder if your friends value you or simply value being cared for by you.

You can spend two hours over lunch learning that your friend’s sex life is dead, her cat has gastrointestinal issues, she’s increased her Ozempic dosage and why she will never fly Air Canada again, only to realize when the cheque arrives she never once asked, “So, what’s up with you?”

Now, salad.

About a decade ago, I developed a completely unscientific way to measure whether a conversation is reciprocal: the Salad Test. If my friend finishes lunch and my plate is still full, I did most of the talking. If hers is untouched, she did. If we finish at roughly the same time, congratulations. We’ve achieved that increasingly rare social phenomenon known as a conversation.

Try it at your next lunch. Before the bill comes, point to her full plate and ask, “See anything interesting here?”

But you’re not asking me why your friends don’t ask you questions. You’re asking if you stopped doing all the listening and organizing, whether these friendships would still exist.

Maybe a better question is whether you still value these friendships enough to work this hard at them.

I also noticed how emphatic you are that no one asks you questions. “No one, and I mean no one.” When the same pattern shows up in every friendship, it’s worth looking at your own role. Do you automatically become The Listener? Fill every silence with another question? Wait to be asked before sharing?

I’m not letting your friends off the hook, but I’m not letting you off either. You’ve spent years expecting them to notice something you haven’t actually told them.

You mention asking your friends if they’d like to hear about your “darling or your grandchildren.” Stop doing that.

Your friends aren’t asking, “Want to hear why my sister and I haven’t spoken in six weeks?” They just tell you. You should, too. So why aren’t you?

The right thing to do is tell them what you’ve noticed. As every exhausted parent has said to their three-year-old: Use. Your. Words.

Don’t lead with, “You never ask me anything!” Try, “I love hearing what’s going on in your life, but you rarely ask about mine. Sometimes I leave feeling invisible or like you aren’t interested in my life. Do you notice that?”

Then follow up with, “Do you actually care what’s going on in my life?”

Terrifying? Maybe. Some friends may be mortified. Others may say, “Of course I want to hear about your grandchildren. Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

So, why don’t you?

You asked whether these people would miss you if you stopped trying. I think there’s only one way to find out.

Stop filling every silence and organizing every gathering. Stop sending the “Time for a catch up!” group text. Then see what happens.

You’re not disappearing to see who comes looking for you. You’re giving others a chance to do some of the work.

Some friendships will survive beautifully. Some may even get better. Others may reveal they were basically on autopay, with only your credit card on file.

Give it six months. At that point, you won’t have to wonder which friendships are mutual. You’ll know.

And don’t assume “nobody asks me questions” means “nobody cares about me.” I know people who’d show up at a hospital at 3 a.m. but forget to ask how something I’d been stressing about turned out.

Look at the friendship as a whole. Would you call them in a crisis? Would they come? Would they pick you up at the airport at midnight? Frankly, anyone willing to do that has earned permission to forget quite a bit about my life.

Most importantly, don’t become less interested in people. Become more interested in who is interested in you.

And please don’t stop being a good listener. The world needs good listeners. Talkers are not in danger of extinction. They’re doing just fine.

And if some disappear when you stop doing all the work, “let them,” as Mel Robbins keeps telling us.

Love, Rebecca
Rebecca Eckler is an internationally bestselling author, founder of re:books publishing, Rivkah Books, and co-founder of CANREADS. She’s a professional oversharer and observer of human behaviour, and has spent decades writing about life’s messy twists. She has no formal qualifications for this, other than a lifetime of questionable decisions and excellent stories.

Have a question for Rebecca? Email NPadvice@postmedia.com or send your question anonymously by clicking here.