Internet Intimacy is New for Me
When my kids were younger and I wanted to have a difficult conversation with one of them, I would wait until we were driving alone in the car. I found that it was easier for me to broach the subject when my gaze was fixed on the road, and it was more likely I would get some feedback if my son or daughter didn’t have to make eye contact either. In that circumstance, the avoidance of eye contact fostered intimacy.
But most of the time intimacy is, for me, precisely about eye contact. I need to see facial expressions, even the mouth moving, in order to continue the conversation, and I need to see something in the eyes in order to venture deeper into my feelings. People in love are all about eye contact. Eye contact is also the source of the momentary intimacy of two strangers acknowledging that, for example, that they both found the way a fellow customer was behaving out of line, or that they both noticed how cute the cocker spaniel in the middle of the sidewalk is.
Internet intimacy is something new for me, both disconcerting and intriguing. Virtual communities offer none of the visual cues I am used to. But they also eliminate other – often harmful – visual clues that enable someone to judge someone else by looks, accent, or station in life. In terms of content, there are almost no barriers, and no consequences. For women, in particular, it is exhilarating to express ourselves without concerns for propriety or hurt feelings.
Such conversations are empowering. Speaking the truth, sharing stories, researching expertise, and finding support – that used to be territory we only shared with our best flesh-and-blood friends. But even then, it was still hard to admit certain things; I once confessed to a friend that I was afraid of disciplining my children for fear of upsetting them, and she seemed so shocked that I regretted the whole conversation. Nowadays such raw admissions are common – and validated – in cyberspace.
An unheralded byproduct of this new intimacy is that we are all becoming fluent in self-expression. As far as I am concerned, this is major. I got an inkling of how transformative internet communication is when I was writing my next book (Fifty Is the New Fifty, out in April). I contacted hundreds of women who had signed up on my website and asked them all kinds of personal questions: How is it to be fifty or sixty or seventy? How are your relationships holding up? Are you burned out at your job? How is your sex life? Do you really understand your finances? The stories I got back were always honest and fresh, and – this was the most amazing aspect to me – they has the authenticity of spoken narrative. In the past, if I wanted a story or anecdote from someone, I had to sit with her – making eye contact – and skillfully draw out emotional details and anecdotes; if, instead, I asked her to write down her responses, the result would be stilted and devoid of detail. Now everyone on line has a loud and proud written voice. That voice speaks the truth to unseen intimates, but even if no one is listening, it gives personal expression – in the same way journaling does – to what we are feeling and experiencing. If I were looking for continuity, I could call this new dimension to communication “I- contact.”