Estimated reading time: 18 minutes
Hello Doc,
I feel like I have a fundamental misunderstanding of how human relationships work, and it’s making it difficult for me to connect with others, whether romantically or platonically. I only have one friend and have never had a romantic partner.
I understand that relationships develop in various ways, one of which is propinquity – the idea that people form connections simply by being around one another. With this in mind, I’ve continued attending different hobby groups and meeting new people. I engage with them, we laugh, and it’s clear we’re both enjoying the conversation. However, if I don’t take the initiative, no one ever reaches out to me. They don’t suggest meeting up outside of the activity, nor do they try to connect with me on social media. I watch as they engage more deeply with others and form stronger bonds, which leaves me feeling frustrated and hurt, and eventually, I end up walking away from these situations.
Another way to connect is through shared interests, but even in this context, I feel disconnected. I’ve never truly found “my people,” and I don’t feel like I fit in with the kind of people I’d like to know. Whether it’s nerdy hobbies or more outgoing ones, it’s almost as if the people at these events can’t see me as “one of them”. For instance, people have even questioned my interests – just the other week, I had to convince someone that I genuinely enjoy a particular genre of music and go to those types of concerts regularly.
When I consider both propinquity and shared interests, I think about the weekly after-work gatherings with my colleagues. The same group of people consistently sits with me, yet they very rarely direct conversation my way, seem to avoid eye contact, and they don’t engage with me at work unless I initiate. If I engage with them first, the interactions go well, but that’s the only circumstance in which I even see a glimmer of them actually liking me. While they have invited me to join one activity, it feels as though they only did so because I was part of the conversation, and I know they’ve done other things without my involvement. I can’t help but wonder whether any of these people would interact with me at all if I didn’t make the first move, and again, these are people that I would like to get to know better.
To put it simply, I feel like I can’t make friends or have a partner, and I don’t feel like I belong anywhere.
Here’s the paradox: I rarely hear anything negative about myself. In fact, people often compliment my character. Just last week, a colleague said I’m “such a good man,” and another mentioned they want me to stay at the job long-term. I’ve heard about how much I come across as an extrovert, and that I’m quite an attractive guy who “all the girls must have a crush on”. I’m “kind”, I have a “great sense of humor”, I’m “caring”. People seem to trust me and open up to me. But none of that seems to matter for anything, and I’m just coasting through life alone.
I’ve been tested for autism, but received no diagnosis. My therapist suggests my issues with relationships stem from low self-esteem and past trauma, but I’m convinced there’s something more going on. It doesn’t seem like I’m disliked, but rather that I’m being kept at arm’s length. I’m not sure why that is, but I’d love to know.
Outside Looking In
Before we get started, I want to make a slight correction, OLI – the propinquity effect isn’t triggered just being around someone, it’s the regular interactions.You want to be more than a familiar face or someone to nod at. Seeing the same people over and over again helps, yes, but that’s not going to build or strengthen relationships. What’s going to help is actually interacting with people you see the most often, even if it’s just a few minutes of making polite small talk.
This may not seem like much, but that’s the sort of thing that multiplies exponentially over time. Part of what makes people like Tom Cruise or Bill Clinton magnetic is that they remember the details of people they meet – who has kids and those kids’ names, what their family has been up to, etc. – and remark on those details. Someone who shows that they’re interested enough to care to remember is demonstrating a lot of interpersonal warmth and openness to others, which makes people feel seen and validated. Do that regularly with the people you see, and you’ll see how quickly the propinquity effect kicks in.
Now with one weird side note out of the way, I’m going to make another seemingly weird diversion; trust me, I promise it’ll make sense before it’s done.
Lately I’ve been binging a lot of Dimension 20 content on Dropout, and I’ve been deep into Misfits and Magic in particular. This is an Actual Play TTRPG series, GM’d by Aabria Iyengar, that takes place in a world where four American teenagers (played by Danielle Radford, Lou Wilson, Erika Ishii and Brennan Lee Mulligan) are whisked off to a similar-to-but-legally-distinct-from-Hogwarts magical school as part of a pilot program to introduce non-magic users into the student body.
In and of itself, it’s a great series; it proceeds more or less how you might expect when four Americans who are both reasonably genre savvy and aware of the Harry Potter franchise are dropped into a whimsical urban fantasy setting. But there’s one character in particular who stands out: Evan Kelmp (yeah, that name never gets more pleasant to say), played by Mulligan. Kelmp is a sad sack, to say the least. Every time he reveals something about his backstory, it just ends up making everything sadder and more pitiful. He’s incredibly smart but socially awkward, in no small part because he’s intensely lonely – partially by circumstance and partially by choice. He has no family or home, and he has lived most of his life constantly on the move and trying to stay off people’s radar. It’s not entirely his fault – he’s literally haunted by dark spirits who cause immense harm to people around him – but it’s still left him profoundly isolated and with next to no idea how to interact with people outside of a strictly commercial basis.
To make matters worse, he knows he’s awkward and difficult to like, and that makes it incredibly difficult for him to open up and actually connect with the people around him. Even when he’s with people who are very much like him, he feels like he doesn’t fit in, nor does he feel welcome. In particular, he finds it incredibly difficult to believe that other people like him or actually want him in their lives unless he’s useful to them. As a result, he has a tendency to reject the people who reach out to him or who genuinely care for him; he says it’s for their safety, but at the end of the day, it’s really because he doesn’t believe anyone could love or value him for himself. As he puts it, the ideal life would be to be a dog because a dog is useful just for being itself; people get a dog because they want a dog, not because they need that dog to do a task.
Much of Kelmp’s arc over the course of the series has been about learning to let his guard down, to learn to find value in just being himself and to accept love and support from his friends without worrying that he’s an inconvenience, to stop apologizing for his weirdness, and to let go of his belief that his value comes from being of use.
Now, I bring this up because… well, honestly, I feel like there’s a lot of Evan in your letter, and I suspect that you’re doing some of the same things that Evan does. You’re there, in as much as you are physically present at these events and gatherings, but you’re also not there because you hold yourself at a distance. There’s a lot in your letter that makes me suspect that you keep people at arm’s length, even as you’re desperate for them to close the distance, and I think this is getting in your way.
I strongly suspect that a big part of this is that you’re waiting for other people to close the distance rather than doing it yourself. After all, if you’re the one who initiates or invites people, then how could you be sure that they’re not just including you or bridging that gap out of a sense of obligation, rather than genuine interest? If someone were to take the initiative or make the offer without prompting, then surely that would be a sign that they actually want to see you, right?
Well… not really. If anything, you might worry that, like Evan, this is conditional approval; their including you isn’t because they want you around but because you have some utility that they need. If they could find someone else who could fill that particular slot or need, then they wouldn’t choose you, specifically, would they? Why would they pick the weird, awkward loner when someone who’s not those things would do equally well?
This, unfortunately, is a loop that’s easy to get caught in, simply because of basic social dynamics. If you’re a new person coming into a group setting, with people who have established relationships, it can take time before people may necessarily realize that you want to be included or that you’re actively looking for new friends and a new social circle. Occasionally you do run into a super-extroverted person or someone who is a super-networker or just collects people who will functionally adopt you and be your Sherpa into the group… but that’s not something you can rely on. I know that’s precisely what a lot of introverts and shy, awkward people hope for or actively crave, but they crave it because it means someone else is eliminating the risk for them, and that just isn’t how life works. There is no life without risk, including the risk of rejection. You have to be willing to take the risk of putting yourself out there and face the possibility of being told “no, thanks”.
But here’s the thing: not being included or invited right away doesn’t mean that they’re tacitly rejecting you. It’s not that they don’t like you, it’s that they simply don’t know you and don’t have reason to believe that you want to be included in more than just that particular event. For all they know, you have a crowded social calendar already, and even people who seem outgoing and charismatic and confident can be deeply anxious and worried about being obnoxious or intrusive.
To get personal for a second, I have people in my life who I know like me and like talking to me, but I still feel awkward and hesitant to reach out first because… well, because I don’t want to bother them.
(This is all the more ironic when I know, intellectually, that many of those people feel the same way about me.)
I can understand the reticence to want to be the one to make the first move, especially when trying to join a new social circle or make new friends. You don’t want to come off as pushy or – worse – desperate. If you’re already socially awkward or have social anxiety, this can amplify that inhibition by orders of magnitude. But more often than not, it really is just a case of “we absolutely would’ve included you, but we thought you weren’t interested”, rather than active exclusion.
You mention, for example, that you have co-workers who regularly sit with you but seem to not make eye-contact or not direct attention your way unless you engage with them first. I know a lot of people who feel the same way and one of the things that they all have in common is that they are very closed off. They are folded in on themselves, with their arms crossed or holding objects between them and the people around them. They look down or away, rather than at people, they rarely seem happy or in a good mood and generally give “do not talk to me” and “I wish to not be perceived” vibes rather than a hearty “hail fellow, well met”. Small wonder that folks seem to only say “hi” or chat with them when they make the first move; they seem like they don’t want to talk at all.
Now this also runs headlong into “well, you’re not quite at that point in the relationship with them, yet”. We all have varying degrees of access that we offer to people in our lives; strangers get less access to us than acquaintances, acquaintances get less access than friends, and so on. It takes time to move up the social ladder with people; as Aristotle supposedly said: “Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit.” A 2018 study found that it takes around 3 – 9 weeks to be friends after the initial meeting, assuming that everyone likes everyone else. Part of what you may experiencing is simply wishing that things were moving at a much faster clip than they do. That’s understandable, but not necessarily feasible.
But the good news is that if you’re a regular at these events, you’ll be able to make that time pass fairly quickly. The key to forming and strengthening relationships is frequency and repetition; the more often you see them, the more you’re spending the time that starts to bring you closer. Two hours a week is going to move things along at a faster rate than four hours every other month or eight at random intervals. This is why it’s so easy to make friends in school and college; you’re spending all day around the same people, 5 days a week or more. Becoming a regular at the hobby group events means that you’re not only going to experience the propinquity effect, but also using that time to strengthen those relationships.
But as I said at the start: it’s not just physical proximity that’s going to do it. It’s going to require actual interaction with people and it’s going to require that you be open, warm and inviting to them. You may well have to start by being comfortable with being the initiator and planner for a bit – being the person to say “hey, can I friend you on Facebook/add you on WhatsApp/ connect on Discord” without worrying they’re saying “yes” out of obligation or reciprocity. Similarly, you have to be willing to believe that if they include you in plans, that it’s because they want to include you, specifically, not just because you happen to be there, and it would be rude if they didn’t.
It can be scary, especially if you’re painfully aware of how awkward and out of place you feel. But to quote a particular general: be afraid, but do it anyway. Because being willing to not only show that you want to be closer but to be willing to make the offer – and to accept it without reservation when it’s offered to you – does pay off in time. Even a dedicated awkward loner like Evan Kelmp can find not just companions but family, where they are willing to quite literally go to hell for him. Not just because he’s useful but because he’s Evan Kelmp, part of Goat House, part of the pilot program, and because he’s important to them just as himself.
Goat House on 3, family on 6.
Good luck.
Hey DNL,
I’ve got what I could call a mutant problem. A problem I’ve had for years, but which regularly changes shapes. My problem is about friendships.
I recently realized I might have too high expectations and might take friendships too seriously. I grew up with a lot of social anxiety, awkwardness, shyness and huge introversion which made developing friendships very challenging, to say the least.
Now at an adult age, I still have some of these issues, to a lesser degree. It’s still very difficult for me to build and maintain healthy friendships. My low self-esteem, my abandonment issues, my difficulties to open up often get in the way. I tend to expect a lot from some friends, not all though. I tend to seek validation, emotional support and a lot of communication. I tend to misinterpret and take a lot of things personally.
All this stems from my nonexistent social life during my formative years. For years I’ve wondered how come some people could always have someone to hang with, never face rejection and have super close friends they text all the time, all stuff I couldn’t achieve, and I still somehow struggle with. Seriously, how come these people have all I want super easily, without much effort?
It also stems from society as a whole, where not having a big social life makes you a somehow flawed person or where friendships is seen as something essential to happiness. So when you struggle with any of these, you just feel like a green skinned alien coming from an estranged planet.
For a long time, I believed friendships would make my so imperfect life perfect.
So yeah, for months I tried to form these friendships, as if my life depended on it. I put huge pressures on myself and guess what, it caused me a 6-month depression. All this while I was writing my master’s degree thesis. I finally made friends, even some close ones, but as you can guess, it didn’t fix my problems and even made some of them worse. I developed a huge friendship anxiety which hinders my ability to keep these friendships healthy and peaceful. I also sometimes think I don’t have enough friends, or they aren’t close enough or my friendships don’t last long enough, compared to EVERYONE else. (Yeah, I still feel like this green skinned alien sometimes)
So, how can I cut myself some slack and take friendships more lightly?
Little alien needing to calm down
Ok, I know this isn’t going to be helpful right off the bat, but I have to ask: are you going to therapy? A lot of what you are discussing isn’t just extreme introversion but sounds instead like an ongoing anxiety disorder. Working with a therapist, particularly someone who may specialize in cognitive behavioral therapy or dialectical behavioral therapy, can help give you the toolset you need to wrestle with those anxieties and intrusive thoughts and fears.
Now some of it also has to do with the fact that your expectations are out of whack with reality. I know that you know at least some of this intellectually, but there’s still the difference between knowing something intellectually and actually taking it on board. The idea that all these people made friends super easily and never struggled a day in their lives is a prime example. That’s not just comparing your unedited footage to their highlight reel, that’s comparing your unedited footage to the Mary-Sue/Marty-Stu fanfic version of their life. It’s actively shitting on yourself by wiping away the humanity of the people you’re envying and wondering why you, a lowly creature of meat and bone, can’t achieve their levels of perfection.
And it’s that very deification that you give to others, along with the sky-high expectations of what friendships are and can do, that are part and parcel of the anxiety you feel and the worry that you’re doing something wrong. You’ve given yourself a baseline expectation that is stratospheric, and then you beat yourself up when you can’t live up to those expectations, because nobody could. You can’t even find that sort of relationship in fiction precisely because it would break people’s suspension of disbelief.
I realize “lower your expectations” seems like an insult – an implicit “quit reaching for the stars, fucko, learn to love the sewer where you belong” – but sometimes it’s more about bringing them in line with reality rather than expecting a level that God, The Doctor and Pinkie Pie couldn’t achieve.
Now, remember what I said about knowing things intellectually? This is actually good, because it means that you recognize that what you’re expecting is unrealistic and unfair of you. While you haven’t processed those truths emotionally, you at least can recognize when you’re experiencing those feelings. One of the things you want to do is start being mindful of when you’re having those feelings – beating yourself up because you don’t have those perfect, effortless friendships, taking things personally when they aren’t personal at all, and so on – and start using that recognition to challenge those feelings. I want you to not just notice when you’re having that anxiety or feeling those feelings about your friendships, but to push back against them. I want you to name those feelings – “oh, here’s my anxiety about my friendship with X” – and then to challenge the validity of them. Is what you’re feeling legitimate – is it something that’s reasonable and actually happening – or relationship/” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener”>is this another example of your jerkbrain and anxiety creating problems where they don’t exist? Ask yourself: “what if I’m wrong about this? I know this is an area where I’m sensitive and prone to anxiety; what if it’s not as bad as I think? Am I 100% sure that this is happening right now, the way I think, or am I getting myself spun up?”
The benefit of this is that it forces you to step away from the emotional immediacy of that thought or feeling, when all your neurons are activated and elevated and just pause for a moment. In taking a moment to question, you give your amygdala an opportunity to settle down and cancel the red alert. That in and of itself is often enough, but by actively challenging those thoughts and doubts, even doubting your doubts, you push back against the anxiety. You give your rational brain a chance to help get things back under control and, in the process, take another step towards taking that intellectual understanding and internalizing it so that you don’t have to challenge those thoughts as often.
I also want you to note very carefully that I said “feeling anxiety” or “having these thoughts”. This is important, because that’s what they are. They’re feelings. They’re thoughts. You’re experiencing anxiety. You’re feeling worried. They’re things you’re experiencing or doing; they’re not definitional. They don’t describe you nor do they delineate you. They are just moments, experiences, there for a brief minute and then gone… if you allow them to go, instead of believing your limbic system when it tells you that things are wrong RIGHTTHEFUCKNOW.
This is, admittedly, a process that takes time. You have to be consciously aware of it at first and to consciously decide to give yourself that moment to breathe and think. It’ll take a while before you catch those thoughts every time, and at first you’ll struggle with it. But by keeping at it, you turn those moments from something you have to think about to habit – something you do out of routine – and from there to muscle memory, where you don’t even have to consciously push back.
Will this change everything for you? No, probably not. Not by itself. But it’ll go a long way towards turning down the volume on those anxieties and giving yourself a chance to tell your brain “shhhhh”. It’ll mean that you no longer give automatic credence to every anxiety flare up, nor beat yourself up when things don’t match the movie in your head. It’ll encourage you to give yourself grace in those moments when you worry that there’s something wrong with you and to give that grace to others when you misunderstand others or encounter a moment where you take something far more personally than was intended. And that’s pretty important.
Taking this approach will help you set your expectations where they should be and make it much easier to meet people where they actually are. It’ll help break you out of that pattern that’s been holding you back and keeping you hypervigilant for tigers in the brush that don’t exist.
And all of that’ll make the rest much, much easier… especially if you pair this with, y’know, talking to a mental health professional instead of a loudmouth with a blog.
Good luck.
