A while back, I encountered a woman named Emily while waiting for the restroom at a local café. I complimented her stylish boots, and before I could stop myself, we ended up discussing my own footwear. She smiled and seemed genuinely friendly. We might have even exchanged names, but I can’t say for sure. I thought we could become friends.
In the weeks that followed, I would occasionally spot her around town. Sometimes she’d greet me; other times, it felt like I was invisible. This led to a rather bizarre mental spiral where I began to question if I had even met her at all. With a small town population hovering around 200, it seemed unlikely that I could mistake her for someone else, yet my mind played tricks on me. Eventually, I convinced myself that she didn’t like me and stopped saying hello.
Isn’t it fascinating how we rationalize social distance? We often convince ourselves that the other person is at fault. This tendency isn’t restricted to casual acquaintances either; long-time friends can fall into the same pit. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve played mediator, listening to two friends lament about their lack of effort toward each other. “I’ve reached out a million times, but she never has the time! If she wants to hang out, she has to make the first move.” It’s a classic standoff, reminiscent of reality TV drama, yet it’s just plain old human behavior.
Trying to convince someone in a state of social despair that their feelings are unfounded is often futile. The more you attempt to soothe them, the more they cling to their grievances as if they’re precious artifacts. Reflecting on my own situation with Emily, I realized that, even while I was deciding she didn’t like me, I was engaging in a familiar game that felt oddly satisfying—like a guilty pleasure.
Maybe obsessing over others’ perceptions is a way to resurrect the feelings of youth, reminiscent of playground rivalries. Or perhaps it’s simply easier to accept that others don’t want to know us than it is to put in the effort to truly connect. Maybe this mindset guarantees our own correctness; if we believe nobody likes us, we can distance ourselves before anyone else does. But the truth is, many people probably like you more than you realize. Sorry to break it to you.
Interestingly enough, my avoidance of Emily came to an unexpected end when she reached out on Facebook! I had previously written an article about my lack of friends—half hoping for sympathy. Her message read, “It wouldn’t have occurred to me that you were someone who would need friends.” This response was bittersweet; it made me sad to realize how well I hide my true feelings but also gave me a strange sense of happiness for the same reason. Reconnecting after pushing someone away can feel rewarding, but does it compare to the comfort of self-preservation? Depending on your upbringing, maybe not.
But as an adult, I realize that everyone is too preoccupied with their own lives—money, kids, relationships, health—to worry about my social status. Really, there’s no reason not to assume everyone thinks I’m fabulous, right?
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Summary
In the end, our perceptions about how others view us often stem from our insecurities and assumptions. Instead of seeking confirmation of our concerns, we might be better off giving people the benefit of the doubt. After all, life is too short to spend it worrying about whether someone likes us!