Relax, They Like You
Probably
Hello Friends,
My life is fairly routine, which I’ve written about before, comparing my life to a time crystal. But in the context of this newsletter, my habitual life means I rarely meet new people.
I used to hang out a lot with strangers (not as insidious as it sounds, trust me). Back in the day when I lived alone and frequented bars. I mean, who didn’t, right?
But now my life’s comings and goings are charmingly settled.
I wake up every day (next to my wife). We go to our local cafe where we (almost dare I say it) have become regulars. Norm!
We live in a small city and usually recognize the people we see on the street.
We have both worked with the same people for years. I attend the same two regular writing groups. The people in the stores on Main Street seem to remember my face (for better or worse).
Yet, there still are times I interact with someone I don’t already know.
When I meet new people, I make small talk, search for commonalities to share, discuss the weather or sports, and other sorts of “meeting a new person” stuff.
Things tend to go along swimmingly, mostly because I rarely want to offend anyone.
Most new people I see are seasonal tourists, looking to enjoy themselves. And, the ones that aren’t are new to town, and well, they deserve a chance.
Inevitably, at the end of a brief episode, it’d be time to say goodbye, and each of us would go our separate way.
If it had been an enjoyable occasion, I’d go home wondering what the other person thought about it, and if they, too, felt it was pleasurable, measuring if I had met a new friend or just some random person.
Undoubtedly, though, by the time I had tucked myself into bed, I’d have reworked the entire scene.
As I closed my eyes to count sheep, I had completely rearranged the gathering in my mind: I was 100% positive that the person didn’t actually like me or the time we spent together. I thought of all the dumb things I had said or laughed at.
Essentially, I was certain that I considered them more favorably than they considered me. Darn. Forever destined to remain a recluse.
Well, apparently, this sinking thought pattern is a thing.
It’s called the Liking Gap.
And it seems to happen to most of us. Thanks to our old pal, the brain:
“Studies tell us that when we’re with others, our social brain is more focused on overanalyzing what we perceive we did wrong, instead of what we may have done right,” says Deborah Serani, PsyD, psychologist and professor at Adelphi University.
https://www.verywellmind.com/how-the-liking-gap-makes-us-doubt-people-like-us-11889968
We are just so hard on ourselves that we can’t allow ourselves to enjoy the other person or the happenstance. Or, in Buddhist terms, live in one moment and move on to the next without ego and self-imposed suffering.
This bewitching brain sabotage makes me think: could there be other types of gaps?
The Hatred Gap, for instance, where one person underestimates the depth of another’s hatred of them.
Or the Jealousy Gap? Someone thinks people are way more jealous of them than they actually are.
How about the Apathy Gap? A condition where you couldn’t even imagine the complete absence of concern another person (or cat) has for you.
In other words, you never know.
Two psychologists walk into a bar… What do they think about each other on their trip home?
The human ego is a funny thing. In so many ways, we never leave high school.
So, relax. Enjoy the moment you spend with others, unless, of course, they are an ass.
Rest assured, they are probably thinking the same thing as you after they depart.
It’s human nature.
Happy reading and happy writing,
David