Lesslee Dort

A friend and I had plans to get together for coffee. I was looking forward to the one-on-one time: just the two of us chatting back and forth, free from interruptions or the influences of other perspectives. Our conversations tend to flow effortlessly, like a familiar stream winding through well-known terrain.

But when I arrived, I noticed my friend had brought three others along. Normally, I would welcome a group — more people often mean more ideas, laughter, and insight. But not that day. I didn’t feel I was in the mental space for a crowd.

It wasn’t the group itself that bothered me — it was the unspoken shift in expectations. I had prepared for an intimate conversation, only to find myself navigating the energy and dynamics of a small gathering. It was like showing up for a quiet picnic and discovering it had turned into a neighborhood barbecue.

Still, as I walked away, I realized something surprising: the group had lifted my spirits in a way I hadn’t anticipated. They didn’t just fill the space I planned to share with my friend — they brought laughter and warmth I hadn’t known I needed. And it struck me: even when we think we know what we want, life sometimes gives us exactly what we need instead.

According to psychologists, clear expectations in relationships help foster trust and reduce anxiety. When those boundaries are unexpectedly altered, even in small ways, the trust we associate with the relationship can feel momentarily shaken. For introverts like me, the shift from an intimate setting to a group dynamic can be especially jarring. It changes not just the atmosphere but also how we engage, express ourselves, and even physically inhabit the space.

In a one-on-one conversation, I’m more open. My posture is relaxed, my words unguarded. But in a group? Everything shifts. My tone becomes more measured, my thoughts more deliberate. I scan the room for subtle cues, trying to read the dynamics and adjust accordingly. This isn’t necessarily bad; it’s just different. And on a day when my energy is low or my mind is elsewhere, it can feel exhausting.

Thankfully, on that day, the group dynamic forced me out of my head. Their stories, laughter, and even their interruptions pulled me into the present moment. By the time I left, I felt lighter and more energized than I had in days. It wasn’t what I planned, but it was exactly what I needed.

Reflecting on the experience, I’ve come to realize something important: I had the power to head off the situation entirely. If I had asked my friend beforehand, “Is it just us, or is anyone else joining?” I might have avoided the surprise.

Communicating my needs is my responsibility. I can’t expect others to read my mind or intuitively know what I’m hoping for. Strong relationships rely on a balance of honesty and flexibility. It’s not just about stating your needs or listening to someone else’s; it’s about navigating those needs together, with mutual care and understanding.

Perhaps my friend thought, “The more, the merrier,” and assumed I’d feel the same. This isn’t inherently disrespectful; it’s a reflection of her worldview. But when those assumptions go unspoken, they can lead to moments of unintentional hurt or discomfort.

There’s also the factor of self-awareness. Some people genuinely don’t consider the ripple effects of their decisions. They may see the invitation as an opportunity to bring together friends they value, unaware that the sudden shift could feel invasive or inconsiderate to you.

In situations like this, it’s easy to let the moment pass without saying anything. After all, confronting a friend about something that might seem minor, like a coffee date, feels daunting. But silence has its costs. Without open communication, resentment can build, and small irritations can grow into larger relational cracks. We all feel and experience events differently. Yet, communication is key in large or small interactions.

If I find myself caught off guard again, I can still address it gently. “I wasn’t expecting a group today — I was looking forward to some one-on-one time. Maybe next time we can plan for that?” Statements like these acknowledge my feelings without placing blame or creating tension.

Ultimately, relationships thrive on clarity and kindness. Just as I can express my needs, my friend also deserves grace. Her decision to include others wasn’t meant to hurt me — it was simply a reflection of her own expectations for the day.

Moments like these remind me that connection is a two-way street. It takes clear communication, mutual respect, and a little bit of patience to navigate the differences in how we approach plans and expectations. And when we get it right, the coffee — or the neighborhood barbecue — becomes something far more meaningful than we originally planned.

So, next time, I’ll ask questions and share my needs, but I’ll also try to stay open to the unexpected. Because, whether it’s two people or five, what truly matters is showing up with intention, communicating with care, and allowing space for life’s little surprises. Sometimes, what we didn’t know we needed turns out to be exactly what we were looking for all along.

Lesslee Dort, a native of Northeast Michigan, is drawn to the outdoors to restore balance. A board-certified patient advocate, Lesslee firmly believes knowledge is power and learning is constant. She is always willing to help others help themselves. Reach Lesslee via email at regardingthejourney@lesslee.com. Read her here each third Thursday of the month.