There’s a moment in human connection that defies easy explanation — that sudden, electric feeling when you meet someone and feel your minds merge. It happened to the two of us when we met at a psychology symposium: Our small talk during a break quickly gave way to playful theories about coffee drinkers versus tea drinkers. We went to find seats together, unaware that this conversation was the start of a decade-long collaboration and friendship.
Where does that spark come from, exactly? What makes someone feel like a lifelong friend after just a couple of minutes? People tend to assume it’s similarity: that they are especially likely to hit it off with someone who shares their background or personality traits.
But in our research, we’ve found that many of the strongest bonds come less from pre-existing similarity and more from riffing playfully. In these moments, people create a little world that belongs just to them, a process we call “building a shared reality.” Collaborative riffs are surprisingly central to our mental well-being: They’re the glue that binds us together, adds color to our lives and gives us a sense of purpose.
And yet, our culture’s conversational rituals revolve not around playful co-creation, but around exchanging formalities. Consider the small talk classic: “How was your weekend?” Convention dictates you keep your answer brief and toss the question back. “Good, just binged some Netflix. You?” The conversation proceeds predictably. “Took my dog to the park since it was so nice.” “Oh, I have a dog, too. What kind is yours?” “A lab mix. He’s 3. …” Both parties walk away with information, but still worlds apart. They may think they’re playing it safe, but that safety traps them in disconnection.
Instead, if these two people strayed from the script and riffed off each other, they might begin to feel that electric buzz of being in sync. It’s like being a kid again: Children skip the boring “getting to know you” phase and jump straight into pretend play — transforming into dragon-slaying knights or shipwrecked sailors.
“How was your weekend?” “Good, but I spent way too much time watching people make tiny food on TikTok.” “Whoa, like … dollhouse-size?” “Yes! If you want to learn to make a lasagna in a bottle cap, let me know.” “That’s hilarious! We could organize a tiny food potluck — and fit the entire spread on this coaster!” “Ha! And we’d need tiny furniture, too. Should we ask that guy over there wearing Carhartt to build it?”
Our research shows that this sort of riffing pays off. In one study, we paired strangers to chat online about ambiguous images. One prompt showed a drawing of three people sitting around an empty chair and asked, “What are the people in the picture talking about?” Some simply described what they saw. But two participants imagined a séance gone wrong because of a character named Carol.
A: seance? hahahaha!
B: damnit Carol you forgot the ouijia board?!?!
A: LOL!
B: dear spirits move this chair up into the air if you wish Carol would have brought a ouijia board and made this easier for everyone.
It was the co-creators — the ones who treated conversation as an opportunity to build a momentary reality belonging uniquely to them — who felt the strongest spark and were most eager to talk again.
Riffing doesn’t require being naturally funny or witty, just being attentive and embracing spontaneity. Like any conversational skill, it takes practice. When riffing, speakers resist the urge to counter every observation with their own separate example, instead building bridges to new ideas (“That reminds me of. …”) or tossing in a “Can you imagine if …?” They reference earlier parts of the conversation to create inside jokes (“Looking forward to our miniature potluck committee!”).
Riffing isn’t just for new acquaintances. Over time, it creates a feeling of having merged minds and inhabiting a private universe. Patti Smith described her relationship with her late husband as the “silent synchronization of the jewels and gears of a common mind.”
We reap these benefits throughout our lives. Couples who report high levels of shared reality riff more, and not only do they feel closer, but they also experience deeper commitment and support. College students who’ve developed a shared reality with mentors or study partners earn higher G.P.A.s. Health care workers during the first wave of the Covid pandemic who felt that they had created their own reality with their significant others found their work more meaningful. It’s the feeling that we’re on the same wavelength that sustains us through challenges and gives our lives purpose.
Our aim in conversation, then, shouldn’t be to mine for surface-level commonalities or go on a charm offensive. Instead, we should ask ourselves, “What could we create together in this moment?”
Maya Rossignac-Milon is an assistant professor at IESE Business School of the University of Navarra who researches shared reality in interpersonal relationships. Erica Boothby is a social psychologist at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania who studies social connection.
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