DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: 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.
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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
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DEAR 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.
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Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com