In the last month I’ve talked with nearly twenty people whom I hadn’t seen in months or years. Three of them I hadn’t spoke with since Obama was re-elected. Twice we spoke through a screen or phone, but mostly we met in the cafes, pubs, parks, and libraries scattered around the Charles river. Though twice we were in a larger group, mostly we spoke in private, one-on-one affairs. That’s the better way.

Three hours seems to be as long as a conversation can go, no matter whether its a one-on-one or a group of six. By then, life’s demands succeed in bursting the bubble we’ve built to hold our conversation. Split evenly, that’s 30 minutes per head in a group of six or 45 minutes for a group of four if speaking time was evenly split—which it never is. By talkativeness, eventfulness, or both one or two people carry on more than their fair share. I want to hear from everyone as honestly as Thoreau endeavored to have himself heard:

I take it for granted, when I am invited to lecture anywhere,—for I have had a little experience in that business,—that there is a desire to hear what I think on some subject, though I may be the greatest fool in the country,—and not that I should say pleasant things merely, or such as the audience will assent to; and I resolve, accordingly, that I will give them a strong dose of myself. They have sent for me, and engaged to pay for me, and I am determined that they shall have me, though I bore them beyond all precedent.

Granted: sidebars form between pairs as the night wears on. These balance the scales, but only slightly; the quality is too low because the ever-present larger conversation mercilessly saps attention. So the night grinds on down a path of most common interest with a few personal thoughts thrown in for spice. Its a fun, its interesting, but it doesn’t satisfy. I’m deceived into feeling that I’ve caught up with each person, but in truth I’ve merely seen them.

A calm chat between two peopleis deeper than a group gathering, and it all comes down to time.

A private chat—a tête-à-tête—on the other hand, is meaty and substantial. For the same 2 hours I’d spend with a group I instead get 60 minutes of someone else as they are. I get a true dose. We have room to clear the topics living on the top our minds. We get to wander into the desires, curiosities, inclinations, contradictions, and that make us distinct from everyone else. There are less pretensions, less performing based on the power dynamics of the group, less noise; and they get the same from me. I call that a bargain, the best I’ve ever had.

You see this effect in the political world too. Years ago, when Bernie Sanders was seeking the Democratic nomination he did a long-form interview with Joe Rogan, a podcast host. A commenter pointed out that in such a long talk a soul has “nowhere to hide”. They were contrasting the long-form conversation with the platitude-laden short exchanges that politicians wield to make their living. The principle is spot on: in long talks between two people each gets a deep feel of who the other is on the inside, shorter talks show us the surface.

Little of what I’ve written so far would matter if I had lots of time on my hands, but I don’t, so it does. I need to make the most of the time I have with the people I want to connect—really connect—with.

One-on-one’s are the way.