As this post was coming together, Duncan fortuitously dropped a List of Truths and Dares which is pretty directly designed around willingness to be vulnerable, in exactly the sense we’re interested in here. Here is his list; consider it a definition-by-examples of willingness to be vulnerable:
I’m pretty sure you’re missing something (edit: or rather, you got the thing right but have added some other thing that doesn’t belong) because the list in question is about more than just willingness to be vulnerable in the sense that gives value to relationships. (A few examples of the list are fine for definition-by-examples for that purpose, but more than 50% of examples are about something entirely different.) Most of the examples in the list are about comfort zone expansion. Vulnerability in relationships is natural/authentic (which doesn’t meant it has to feel easy), while comfort zone expansion exercises are artificial/stilted.
You might reply that the truth-and-dare context of the list means that obviously everything is going to seem a bit artificial, but the thing you were trying to point at is just “vulnerability is about being comfortable being weird with each other.” But that defense fails because being comfortable is literally the opposite of pushing your comfort zone.
For illustration, if my wife and I put our faces together and we make silly affectionate noises because somehow we started doing this and we like it and it became a thing we do, that’s us being comfortable and a natural expression of playfulness. By contrast, if I were to give people who don’t normally feel like doing this the instruction to put their faces together and make silly affectionate noises, probably the last thing they will be is comfortable!
[Edited to add:] From the list, the best examples are the ones that get people to talk about topics they wouldn’t normally talk about, because the goal is to say true things that are for some reason difficult to say, which is authentic. By contrast, instructing others to perform actions they wouldn’t normally feel like performing (or wouldn’t feel like performing in this artificial sort of setting) is not about authenticity.
I’m not saying there’s no use to expanding one’s comfort zone. Personally, I’d rather spend a day in solitary confinement than whisper in friend’s ear for a minute ASMR-syle, but that doesn’t mean that my way of being is normatively correct—I know intellectually that the inner terror of social inhibitions or the intense disdain for performative/fake-feeling social stuff isn’t to my advantage in every situation. Still, in the same way, those who’ve made it a big part of their identity to continuously expand their comfort zones (or maybe see value in helping others come out of their shell) should also keep in mind that not everyone values that sort of thing or needs it in their lives.
Most of the examples in the list are about comfort zone expansion
I don’t think that’s right/I don’t think that’s the point of the list, though John’s quoting it out of context might’ve led to losing the point. Duncan’s post suggests that different people in the same social context can view exercises from this list either as potentially humiliating comfort-zone-pushing challenges, or as a silly-playful-natural thing to do. Which one it is then depends on whether the given person views the people in that social context as people they can be vulnerable around or not. I. e.: precisely the difference between interacting with your wife vs. random people.
(Duncan’s post then goes into more detail about natural personality-clusters which differ by, among other things, whether their strong-default mode is one or the other.)
Thanks, that’s helpful context! Yeah, it’s worth flagging that I have not read Duncan’s post beyond the list.
Duncan’s post suggests that different people in the same social context can view exercises from this list either as potentially humiliating comfort-zone-pushing challenges, or as a silly-playful-natural thing to do.
Seems like my reaction proved this part right, at least. I knew some people must find something about it fun, but my model was more like “Some people think comfort/trust zone expansion itself is fun” rather than “Some people with already-wide comfort/trust zones find it fun to do things that other people would only do under the banner of comfort/trust zone expansion.”
(Sometimes the truth can be somewhere in the middle, though? I would imagine that the people who would quite like to do most of the things in the list find it appealing that it’s about stuff you “don’t normally do,” that it’s “pushing the envelope” a little?)
That said, I don’t feel understood by the (fear of) humiliation theme in your summary of Duncan’s post. Sure, that’s a thing and I have that as well, but the even bigger reason why I wouldn’t be comfortable going through a list of “actions to do in the context of a game that’s supposed to be fun” is because that entire concept just doesn’t do anything for me? It just seems pointless at best plus there’s uncomfortableness from the artificiality of it?
As I also wrote in my reply to John:
It’s hard to pinpoint why exactly I think many people are highly turned off by this stuff, but I’m pretty sure (based on introspection) that it’s not just fear of humiliation or not trusting other people in the room. There’s something off-putting to me about the performativeness of it. Something like “If the only reason I’m doing it is because I’m following instructions, not because at least one of us actually likes it and the other person happily consents to it, it feels really weird.”
(This actually feels somewhat related to why I don’t like small talk—but that probably can’t be the full explanation because my model of most rationalists is that they probably don’t like small talk.)
I think your experience does not generalize to others as far as you think it does. For instance, personally, I would not feel uncomfortable whispering in a friend’s ear for a minute ASMR-style; it would feel to me like a usual social restriction has been dropped and I’ve been freed up to do something fun which I’m not normally allowed to do.
I was initially surprised that you think I was generalizing too far—because that’s what I criticized about your quoting of Duncan’s list and in my head I was just pointing to myself as an obviously valid counterexample (because I’m a person who exists, and fwiw many but not all of my friends are similar), not claiming that all other people would be similarly turned off.
But seeing Thane’s reply, I think it’s fair to say that I’m generalizing too far for using the framing of “comfort zone expansion” for things that some people might legitimately find fun.
As I’m going to also write in my reply to Thane, I knew some people must find something about things like the ASMR exampe fun, but my model was more like “Some people think comfort/trust zone expansion itself is fun” rather than “Some people with already-wide comfort/trust zones find it fun to do things that other people would only do under the banner of comfort/trust zone expansion.” Point taken!
Still, I feel like the list could be more representative to humanity in general by not using so many examples that only appeal to people who like things like circling, awkward social games, etc.
It’s hard to pinpoint why exactly I think many people are highly turned off by this stuff, but I’m pretty sure (based on introspection) that it’s not just fear of humiliation or not trusting other people in the room. There’s something off-putting to me about the performativeness of it. Something like “If the only reason I’m doing it is because I’m following instructions, not because at least one of us actually likes it and the other person happily consents to it, it feels really weird.”
(This actually feels somewhat related to why I don’t like small talk—but that probably can’t be the full explanation because my model of most rationalists is that they probably don’t like small talk.)
I’m pretty sure you’re missing something (edit: or rather, you got the thing right but have added some other thing that doesn’t belong) because the list in question is about more than just willingness to be vulnerable in the sense that gives value to relationships. (A few examples of the list are fine for definition-by-examples for that purpose, but more than 50% of examples are about something entirely different.) Most of the examples in the list are about comfort zone expansion. Vulnerability in relationships is natural/authentic (which doesn’t meant it has to feel easy), while comfort zone expansion exercises are artificial/stilted.
You might reply that the truth-and-dare context of the list means that obviously everything is going to seem a bit artificial, but the thing you were trying to point at is just “vulnerability is about being comfortable being weird with each other.” But that defense fails because being comfortable is literally the opposite of pushing your comfort zone.
For illustration, if my wife and I put our faces together and we make silly affectionate noises because somehow we started doing this and we like it and it became a thing we do, that’s us being comfortable and a natural expression of playfulness. By contrast, if I were to give people who don’t normally feel like doing this the instruction to put their faces together and make silly affectionate noises, probably the last thing they will be is comfortable!
[Edited to add:] From the list, the best examples are the ones that get people to talk about topics they wouldn’t normally talk about, because the goal is to say true things that are for some reason difficult to say, which is authentic. By contrast, instructing others to perform actions they wouldn’t normally feel like performing (or wouldn’t feel like performing in this artificial sort of setting) is not about authenticity.
I’m not saying there’s no use to expanding one’s comfort zone. Personally, I’d rather spend a day in solitary confinement than whisper in friend’s ear for a minute ASMR-syle, but that doesn’t mean that my way of being is normatively correct—I know intellectually that the inner terror of social inhibitions or the intense disdain for performative/fake-feeling social stuff isn’t to my advantage in every situation. Still, in the same way, those who’ve made it a big part of their identity to continuously expand their comfort zones (or maybe see value in helping others come out of their shell) should also keep in mind that not everyone values that sort of thing or needs it in their lives.
I don’t think that’s right/I don’t think that’s the point of the list, though John’s quoting it out of context might’ve led to losing the point. Duncan’s post suggests that different people in the same social context can view exercises from this list either as potentially humiliating comfort-zone-pushing challenges, or as a silly-playful-natural thing to do. Which one it is then depends on whether the given person views the people in that social context as people they can be vulnerable around or not. I. e.: precisely the difference between interacting with your wife vs. random people.
(Duncan’s post then goes into more detail about natural personality-clusters which differ by, among other things, whether their strong-default mode is one or the other.)
Thanks, that’s helpful context! Yeah, it’s worth flagging that I have not read Duncan’s post beyond the list.
Seems like my reaction proved this part right, at least. I knew some people must find something about it fun, but my model was more like “Some people think comfort/trust zone expansion itself is fun” rather than “Some people with already-wide comfort/trust zones find it fun to do things that other people would only do under the banner of comfort/trust zone expansion.”
(Sometimes the truth can be somewhere in the middle, though? I would imagine that the people who would quite like to do most of the things in the list find it appealing that it’s about stuff you “don’t normally do,” that it’s “pushing the envelope” a little?)
That said, I don’t feel understood by the (fear of) humiliation theme in your summary of Duncan’s post. Sure, that’s a thing and I have that as well, but the even bigger reason why I wouldn’t be comfortable going through a list of “actions to do in the context of a game that’s supposed to be fun” is because that entire concept just doesn’t do anything for me? It just seems pointless at best plus there’s uncomfortableness from the artificiality of it?
As I also wrote in my reply to John:
I think your experience does not generalize to others as far as you think it does. For instance, personally, I would not feel uncomfortable whispering in a friend’s ear for a minute ASMR-style; it would feel to me like a usual social restriction has been dropped and I’ve been freed up to do something fun which I’m not normally allowed to do.
I was initially surprised that you think I was generalizing too far—because that’s what I criticized about your quoting of Duncan’s list and in my head I was just pointing to myself as an obviously valid counterexample (because I’m a person who exists, and fwiw many but not all of my friends are similar), not claiming that all other people would be similarly turned off.
But seeing Thane’s reply, I think it’s fair to say that I’m generalizing too far for using the framing of “comfort zone expansion” for things that some people might legitimately find fun.
As I’m going to also write in my reply to Thane, I knew some people must find something about things like the ASMR exampe fun, but my model was more like “Some people think comfort/trust zone expansion itself is fun” rather than “Some people with already-wide comfort/trust zones find it fun to do things that other people would only do under the banner of comfort/trust zone expansion.” Point taken!
Still, I feel like the list could be more representative to humanity in general by not using so many examples that only appeal to people who like things like circling, awkward social games, etc.
It’s hard to pinpoint why exactly I think many people are highly turned off by this stuff, but I’m pretty sure (based on introspection) that it’s not just fear of humiliation or not trusting other people in the room. There’s something off-putting to me about the performativeness of it. Something like “If the only reason I’m doing it is because I’m following instructions, not because at least one of us actually likes it and the other person happily consents to it, it feels really weird.”
(This actually feels somewhat related to why I don’t like small talk—but that probably can’t be the full explanation because my model of most rationalists is that they probably don’t like small talk.)