Am I Sending The Wrong Signals to People I Date?

Estimated reading time: 18 minutes

Hi Doc,

Long time reader, first time LW. You seem to be pretty good with questions around how to know if you’re sending the right signals (or wrong ones) so I was hoping you might be able to help with mine.

I’m a late 20s cis gay woman who’s been on the apps casually dating for the past year, since I split up from a long-term boyfriend who was in no way shape or form right for me (see the “gay” part above!) I’ve been running into a problem which may seem like the opposite of a problem to some people, but it’s been making me really uncomfortable.

Several times I’ve been chatting with a girl, end up going on 1-2 dates, and have the person suddenly start coming on really strong—texting every day/multiple times a day, saying things that imply we are already committed to each other as a result of having gotten along well on one date (“We’ll make this work!” Make *what* work?!); saying they “feel a connection” between us. None of these things are inherently bad, but the main thing for me is that after meeting up with someone once I still don’t feel like I know them very well—I’m definitely not in a space to be talking every day, answering personal questions or wanting to establish a steady thing, *even if I like them and enjoy their company*.

Before the internet peanut gallery jumps in to ask if it’s a lesbian U-Haul thing, I’ve experienced this *more* often with men, having dated men for the first half of my life.

To be fair, I am a pretty straightforward person when it comes to dating — I will let someone know with my words if I enjoy their company and want to go out again, and I can be fairly direct. I also have a very warm, friendly vibe. I am wondering because of this pattern if these things (being direct, being the first to ask girls out, saying “I like you and think you’re cool” without beating around the bush) are making people think I want this level of intensity! I don’t!

Doc, I had one girl text me unprompted after I didn’t reply to a message for about a day, reminding me to “take care of myself, eat food and get some sleep” — as if the only possible explanation for me not immediately texting back was that I was lying malnourished in an abandoned field somewhere. We’d been on one date. Another girl ended up dragging me into a really serious personal life situation that led to me leaving a hobby group we’d been in together — we’d known each other a few months and (from my perspective) only flirted lightly before she dumped some SERIOUS crushfeelings on me. In each of these cases I tried some gentle de-escalating (letting more time pass between conversations, deliberately steering talk back to lighter topics) that did nothing to improve the situation.

I feel like an ass for even having a problem with this stuff because not only is it well-meant, it’s from people *I have* shown interest in. The discomfort that others are starting to expect way more of me than I signed up to give is hard to shake once it sets in, and it’s honestly led to me breaking off interactions with people I’d otherwise been really liking talking to.

I feel like there are some societally established ways of politely saying “I like you, but I’m not feeling a romantic connection”, but not as many ways of saying “I *do* like you, but I also need you to back off!” Or maybe it’s not as complicated as I’m making it, and I do just need to say (a version of) that? I certainly don’t want to come off as some sort of super casual player or waste anyone’s time. Any tips on how to give “into you, but let’s take it slow… a bit slower… SLOWER THAN THAT!”…?

Signed,

-Forward Backward Forward Back

I think the first thing that could be affecting things, FBFB, is that the world is still dealing with trauma from the isolation of the lockdowns in 2020. We spent a year or more in varying degrees of solitary confinement we all pretty much went feral. While we all made jokes about having to readjust to society and having to remember to leave goblin-mode once we could be out in person again… a lot of those weren’t really jokes, and there’s a lot of evidence and anecdotes that we’re still dealing with the after effects. That includes a lot of folks getting way the hell over their skis when it comes to dating.

So, I think there’s a certain amount of still trying to re-learn “how to human”, even years out from the actual event.

But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure this is as much of an issue about the signals you’re sending, FBFB, so much as who you’re dating and connecting with. The thing that leaps out at me is how this has been so consistent among the people you’ve dated or just flirted with, even across gender lines. That suggests that it’s as much about signals you send or the way you behave, but on the people you’re sending signals to… and why they may be prone to jumping the gun to such a degree.

That, to me, suggests that this is a starting point for doing a little digging and unpacking. One of the keys to troubleshooting your love life is to stop and look for patterns of behavior. Once you identify one – such as this level of overinvestment, then you want to look at what those people all may have had in common. And one of the things they all have in common is, well, you.

Or rather, who you’re attracted to and why.

Now, to be clear, that doesn’t mean that I think you’re at fault here. Rather, I think that level of frequency suggests that there’s a quality in people you’re dating that may correlate to how quickly they assume (or offer) a level of commitment that you don’t have yet. 

I suspect that the root cause is a level of insecurity on their part, because boy howdy can I can recognize this behavior in ways I used to behave. Back in the bad old days, I used to race to lock down a relationship at the first hint that someone liked me. I had no chill whatsoever. While I wouldn’t understand this until later, I was mortally afraid that they were going to realize they could do better or just didn’t like me all that much. I didn’t have any faith that someone would be interested in me for me, so I felt like I had to make this relationship happen ASAP. If I didn’t – so the obnoxious and unhelpful thinking went – then they’d wise up and move on.

Did this rush to try to establish a relationship actually lead to commitment from people I dated? Ha ha ha, no. But did it at least mean that I felt more secure in the relationships I did have? Also no. If anything, it made things worse, because now I had even more to lose and I spent far more time waiting for the Sword of Damocles to fall than I did actually, y’know, enjoying the relationship.

So the first step of dealing with this is to try to parse what it was about these people that drew you to them in the first place, and if that may not mean that you’re drawn to people more predisposed to this sort of behavior. If, for example, you realize you’ve been dating people who tend towards neurodivergence like ADHD and the like, then they may be folks who also have the Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria combo plate. Or if they’re people who tend to not have a lot of relationship experience under their belt, they may not realize that they’re letting their enthusiasm run away with them.

This doesn’t mean you need to adjust who you date or recalibrate your picker, but it does mean that you may need to consider how you proceed with people if you’re looking in particular dating pools. It also will mean adjusting the way you conduct the early stages of these relationships. Which is what actually brings us to the next step.

In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t actually implemented this step already. You say you’re pretty straightforward and direct… so why does that seem to go away when you’ve got people who start acting like poorly-socialized golden retriever puppies at the first sign of interest? I understand not wanting to hurt their feelings or not wanting to assume too much about their intent, but this is a time where saying “woah, ease back on the throttle, cowgirl” seems appropriate to me.

Aiming for politeness or prioritizing not hurting their feelings in these situations is just getting in the way of the desired outcome. If you’re too gentle, polite or circumspect, you can end up creating confusion where you don’t mean to. If, for example, you’re dealing with people who are neurodiverse, they may focus more on the exact wording and miss the intent behind it. Or the inexperienced person may not realize that they’re moving at lightspeed, rather than the pace you’re looking for.

This is why gentle forms of de-escalation aren’t working the way you hoped; the way you’re conveying your desire isn’t sending the message you intend. They aren’t seeing the length of time between conversations as signs to slow down, nor are they picking up on the way you keep changing the subject.

(Once again: been there, done that, built a career out of teaching people how to recognize what it means when this happens.)

This is a case where you want to use your words, but as a hammer, not a scalpel. You can be blunt and direct without being hurtful; you’re not saying “knock it off and go away forever”, you’re saying “here’s how you win with me.” Your goal is to communicate the message of “you’re saying “you’re at a 10 and I need you at a 2,” and this works best when you can tell them what a 2 actually looks like for you.

The next time this happens, tell them exactly what you mean. Say “hey, I like you and I’m enjoying this. But you are moving faster than I’m comfortable with, and that puts me off. I like it best when we do X, Y and Z instead of A, B and C.” It may feel incredibly mechanical, but for a lot of people, knowing that you prefer to limit how much you’re texting or what to expect is a relief. A lot of folks, even neurotypical people, really appreciate it when someone says “I prefer this” or “this is how I work”. Knowing, for example, that there are levels of texting that stress you out is precisely the sort of information people would want to know.  It cuts out a lot of confusion and gives them a solid base to work from. Having a positive example of “I like this, please do that” helps ease a lot of the worry of “oh wait, what if I’m doing this wrong?”

Don’t be afraid to give folks the strategy guide to a relationship with you. It may not feel romantic or sweet, but trust me: the folks you’re attracted to will appreciate the hell out of it. It may be the best gift you could give them.

Good luck.

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Dear Doctor,

I’ve been an avid reader of your blog for a while now, so thank you for all the great work you’re doing. This is less a question about dating and more about my relationships with people in general, but it has to do with something I’ve struggled with for a long, long time.

First, some context: I am a 20-year-old man who was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome at a young age. I’ve always been pretty introverted and sensitive, and often had a hard time making friends as a kid. I felt that most people either ignored me or formed friendships with me that weren’t genuine, just because I was “different”. Thankfully, I’ve made some incredible friends over the years who have been there for me through thick and thin, but there are still some fields where I don’t entirely feel satisfied or comfortable.

Namely, when it comes to hobbies and interests.

I’ll be honest: I’m pretty nerdy, and have been all my life. I love old movies (particularly dramas), video games, indie music, and reading fantasy novels. I find these things so engaging and meaningful to me, and I’m very passionate about them, where they almost feel like a part of who I am. It’s important for me to share this stuff with people, because it feels like letting them into my world a bit, allowing them to get to know me through the things I connect to.

But every time I try to tell people about this, I never feel understood in the way I want to. Part of that is on me: like a lot of neurodivergent people, I have a tendency to fixate on things and go on monologues about them sometimes, and that can drive people away. It’s something I’m aware of and am trying to work on, so I can present myself in a more palatable way.

But even when I have something that truly moved me, and I want to share that with other people… I recoil. I get overcome with fear of how they will react. I’ve had people tell me throughout my life, even as I got older and my social life got better, that the things I like are weird, or pretentious, or boring, or uncool, and don’t try to engage with what makes this thing so special to me. And every time I think of sharing these things with someone, I freeze and start to panic: what happens if someone I love or a good friend reacts the same way and decides to leave me, even when I try to find something they will like as well? What if I’m left all alone in the world, where even those closest to me can reject me at the drop of a hat because they think my hobbies are silly?

This is true for pretty much everyone I meet – friends, dates, even my immediate family sometimes, and it’s gotten to the point where it’s become unbearable. It’s not even that I need people to like what I like in order to feel validated – all I want is for the people I care about to get a glimpse into my emotions, to feel understood by them, and for me to feel comfortable being open with them.

I’m pretty open and earnest with them about my day-to-day emotions anyway; unlike many men my age, I have no problems sharing my feelings, discussing politics, philosophy, or most other topics that are important to me with my loved ones and friends. But when it comes down to talking about my passions, the anxiety takes hold of me again, and I don’t understand why. What’s wrong with me? Why is it so easy for me to talk about the things I believe, but so hard to talk about the things I love?

That’s why discussing these things online hasn’t helped either: awful state of online discourse aside, I want to connect with people I know about these things than to find a community of like-minded individuals who I can’t meet and connect with IRL.

I dunno, maybe this question sounds a bit trivial or silly. But I just can’t live like this any longer. How do I become more comfortable talking to people about my interests? How do I overcome this paralyzing fear of being rejected, and finally feel like I can show people who I really am?

Yours truly,

Searching For Understanding

There’s an Instagram reel that’s been going around some of my social circles in the last few days that has been hitting like an atom bomb: “I don’t overshare because I like talking about myself, I overshare because I feel like I’m more tolerable with context.”

It sounds to me like you’re feeling this, but you’re also afraid that context will actually make things worse.

A lot of this is about insecurity; the fear isn’t so much about your hobbies and interests being silly, so much as the fear that you as a person aren’t don’t have enough inherent value to keep someone interested as a friend or partner. As a result, it feels as though something as minor as “they think my interests are silly” would be enough to make them have second thoughts about being your friend.

While I would say that anyone who’s going to stop being your friend because they think your interests are silly was never really your friend in the first place, I absolutely understand that this isn’t helpful in the moment. I just want you to understand: what you’re feeling is anxiety, not reality. It’s the fear of “what if”, and how it’s tied to how you feel about yourself.

The fact that this is an anxiety may not feel helpful, but it can give you perspective to understand what’s going on. Anxiety is a little like an overactive guard dog; it’s a way that part of your brain is trying to protect you, but it’s so on alert for threats that it overreacts to everything. Once you recognize that this is response to the anticipation of a threat, not the reality, it’s easier to center yourself and calm down. You can take a moment, look around, see that it’s not actually happening and then you free up bandwidth that you can then use on something that does need your attention. Likely, that will be something considerably less scary, but far more helpful.  

It also means that you can look at the friendships you have, see what you’ve been through and realize that even if they don’t share your interests, they still like you. And hey, not sharing interests doesn’t preclude friendship; respecting people’s interests is far more important.

Now, there’re a few things that I would suggest that will help you here. The first is to recognize that while you may have the impulse to give the full rundown on your interests, it’s often more helpful to have levels of information to share. Think of it as a three-tiered system: the elevator pitch, the beginner’s guide and The Full Monty.

These correlate to the level of closeness you have with someone – the way that people can have grades of access to your life. Strangers, for example, get few personal details; you don’t know them, they don’t know you and they haven’t necessarily earned greater access to you. Acquaintances get more access, but not all of it; they’ve earned a higher level of closeness, but they’re still on provisional status until time and behavior shows that they deserve more access. When a stranger asks you how your day’s going, you don’t necessarily tell them about how you’ve got a doctor’s appointment because you have a spot on your neck that needs to be biopsied, you say “I’ve had better days”. On the other hand, you would share that info with a close friend, because they’ve earned that level of disclosure and you have the kind of relationship where you can turn to them for support and reassurance.

The same goes with how much you go into your interests; you don’t give all the information at once; you give them a little bit based on their interest and the level of relationship you have with them and share more, accordingly.

The elevator pitch is just that – how you would pitch this idea to someone if all you had was the length of an elevator ride to explain it and catch their interest. So if you were going to give the elevator pitch for, say, the October Daye series by Seanan McGuire, you might say “a private detective in San Francisco tries to balance her mundane life with being a part of a Court of the Fae run by a sociopathic queen.” This is just enough to whet their interest and encourage them to ask for more if they’re intrigued.

The beginner’s guide is the next tier, where you give them the very basic rundown – it’s an ongoing series about Toby trying to survive as a half-fae, half-human changeling in a culture that doesn’t see changelings having anyrights whatsoever; she lost over a decade of her life to a curse and this destroyed her human relationships and she’s struggling to keep her head afloat while also dealing with courtly intrigue and Machiavellian plotting. It’s closest to a Wikipedia summary, giving the basic gist but without getting into detailed plot development, spoilers and the like.

The Full Monty is where you go in depth about your relationship to the book – how you relate to the characters, why you like it, what about McGuire’s storytelling that resonates with you, how it blends darkness with heartwarming moments, character development and evolution, the way you can go back and trace the clues that were salted as far back as the very first page, etc.   

Having these tiers can make it easier to calibrate just how much to share, without feeling like you’re going to overwhelm them. If someone wants to know more, they can say “oh hey, that sounds cool, tell me more about that” They may decide that they just want the gist, but then come back later and ask more. It also means that you don’t overshare with people when it wouldn’t be appropriate.

But this is about managing the anxiety – having these tools helps you feel more confident sharing, because you’re less likely to go into full infodump and freaking people out. To address the source of the anxiety, you have to look inward.

Some of this is about trusting your friends and your connection with them. If they’ve been with you through thick and thin, getting enthusiastic about your favorite old movies isn’t going to drive them off. They’ve demonstrated this through their behavior and the longevity of their friendship with you. But it’s hard to get to that point if you don’t actually have that sense of self-worth and believing in your inherent value as a person.

That part is harder, and a lot of it comes from being kinder to yourself, loving yourself and recognizing that your worth isn’t contingent on what other people think. It’s easier to say “wow, this person isn’t someone who’d be a good friend” when you don’t take that incompatibility as a sign that you are the problem.

This is one of the times when I think dialectical behavioral therapy would be helpful. There’re free resources available to help walk you through a lot of it, but I think you would really benefit from working with a therapist, particularly one who’s used to autistic and neurodivergent people. Helping get the anxiety under control and building that sense of inherent value and internal validation is going to go a long way to easing the fear that sharing these aspects of yourself will turn people off.

So take a little time, think about the ways you can use the tiered system to discuss your interests with others so you don’t have that immediate worry of driving people off. As you feel more empowered to talk about your interests, take that sense of confidence and assurance and recognize how this tells you how capable and awesome you are. As your emotional bandwidth frees itself up, you can direct it towards your sense of worth and your overall emotional health.

It’s scary, I know. It’s not easy, and it takes time, but the rewards are absolutely worth it. And I promise you, SFU: you’ve got the strength and the courage to accomplish it.

You’ve got this.

All will be well.