DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: Since I was a kid I was always very sensitive, and would tear up or outright cry whenever someone said something even slightly mean about me. I was bullied a lot when I was younger.

I’m 23 now and at least when someone says mean things about me, I know better to laugh it off, or quip something in reply.

However, despite all the advice I’ve read that says to “not take it so seriously” or “not let it get to me”, I just can’t help but feel hurt inside at that point in time (almost similar to me as a kid, just that I’ve gotten better at hiding it). After thinking about it, I realized that I feel the way I feel because of either of 2 things:

1) Automatic thoughts. Sometimes, when someone says something mean about me (no matter how absurd the insult may be) I would still get an automatic thought inside going “Hey, there may be SOME truth to it, no smoke without fire”. This would be quickly followed up with “If you were a better person, they wouldn’t have made fun of you like this in the first place”.

2) Their words unintentionally making me remember a time when I had actually screwed up in a similar manner and thus making me relive the embarrassment/humiliation/etc of that past occasion.

So I would like to ask, the next time I find myself in this situation, what should I do instead to maintain an unflappable attitude?

No More Tears

DEAR NO MORE TEARS: Before I get into this, NMT, I want to bring up the obvious point: that there’s nothing wrong with being sensitive. The idea that emotions are inherently bad or that responding to things that hurt you with anything other than stony indifference is part of the toxic masculinity package. It’s dead bang in the center of the idea that emotions are the opposite of rational thinking and that showing emotion is a mark of weakness. You see this in the way that conservatives talk about people being TRIGGERED for being vaguely annoyed or offended by something, or how the fact the Parkland shooting survivors are calling for gun control is proof that children are getting p

sified.

Hell, the number of insults for men that conflate femininity and weakness (such as “getting p

sified”) are part of the bulls

t parade that tells people that strength = unfeeling, unemotional a

hole Vulcans.

Ironically enough, insisting that men aren’t supposed to be sensitive is part of what makes us so fragile. When you’re not used to dealing with your feels, you lose the ability to do anything with them. It’s hard to separate “mild awkward uncomfortableness” from “earth-shattering grief” when you’ve spent most of your life trying to repress everything that wasn’t stony-faced stoicism.

Expressing yourself emotionally – whether it’s through laughter or tears – is important. And if you’re more sensitive than other people… well, that’s just part of what makes you uniquely you.

Of course, there are caveats to this. If someone is so sensitive – or willing to portray oneself as being sensitive for some perceived advantage – that they can’t function at all, then that’s a problem. And if you’re so tightly wound that even slight criticism is enough to trigger a shame spiral that leaves you up at 4 AM in the morning on the regular… well, again, that’s a problem.

In your case, NMT, the problem is less that you’re sensitive and more just what these feelings trigger in you. And to be clear: these are very common issues. Lots of people – especially folks who are socially awkward – deal with these same thought spirals and and beliefs. So what I think you need is not to be less sensitive but to work on how you process those feelings.

To start with: don’t try to not feel hurt. Trying to force yourself not to feel is just a great way to make things worse. Like squeezing a stress ball or a water-weiner, all not-feeling does is compress your feels and pushes them past your ability to contain them. The harder you squeeze, the more they bulge out elsewhere.

Instead, you should do the opposite: you should let yourself feel the f

k out of your feels. Like the Litany Against Fear: let it wash over you and then past you, then turn your eye to see it’s passing. Part of why these feelings hit us so hard is that we let them occupy our entire consciousness. By letting them just be, we preserve our emotional and intellectual bandwidth for important things, instead of “oh God, what does this mean?” And once we stop devoting brain cycles to those feelings, we realize how quickly the moments pass when we let them. Once you start to get used to the idea that these negative emotions are temporary, they start to lose their impact and you recognize them for what they are: momentary unpleasantness that will soon pass.

Next, you want to consider the source. Part of the reason why insults sting is because we give credence to the opinion of the person insulting us… which is absurd in many cases. The truth is that not all opinions are equal. Some are valid, some are based on bulls

t and some are out and out absurd. Ask yourself, for example, how hurt you would be if a four year old came up to you and called you a jerk and they hate you. Probably not very much; the opinion of a toddler is not something most of us worry about. Plus, we know that kids say s

t like this all the time; there’s no real meaning or thought behind it. So it is with the person who insults you.

Are they someone who you know is an a

hole who enjoys tearing other people down? Then you know that they’re not someone who you should take seriously. It’s not that they have secret insight into your character and see the real you, it’s that they’re a

holes and a

holes are gonna ass, no matter what. They’re the same ones who’ll find reasons to talk s

t about Mr. Rodgers.

To quote Katt Williams: don’t sweat the haters. Jesus was perfect, but he only had 13 friends and one of them was a hater. Make like Skywalker and let roll off you.

Are they a stranger? Then they don’t really know you, nor do you know them. There’s no reason to accept their opinion as meaningful – certainly not more so than friends or loved ones who know you well. And if their behavior is revealing them to be an a

hole, like in the previous example? Then there’s really no reason to take anything they say onboard. Let yourself roll your eyes at them (mentally) and keep stepping.

Now, if it’s someone who’s judgement you actually can trust? Then you have reason to ask yourself whether this was something legit or if it’s just someone who’s confused “busting your balls” with “being funny”. But remember: even people you know, like and trust can be wrong or just be dicks at times.

When you do have those thoughts of “what if they’re right?”, then you need to acknowledge the obvious: “but what if they’re not?” What if – and stick with me here – what if this is the opinion of someone with an incomplete idea about who you are or what you’re actually capable of? What if their opinion of your choice, your lifestyle, your whatever is just plain wrong? Even if they legitimately think you did something worth criticizing – even if it’s in as dickish a way as making fun of you – that doesn’t mean that they’re correct. It just means that they disagree with you and are expressing it in a s

tty way.

Think this, consciously, every time those “but what if…” thoughts come up. Literally, every time. Automatic thoughts aren’t inherent, they’re a habit you picked up over time. You’ve just been living with it for so long that you’ve forgotten the time when you didn’t think like this. Consciously doubting your doubts not only breaks the habit but programs a new one: recognizing that sometimes people are just wrong.

The next thing you need to ask yourself when you feel those automatic thoughts coming on is: “does this actually help me?” I’m a big believer in “absorb what is useful“, and getting called out on a mistake can be useful… on occasion. But there’s a difference between “hey this thing you did wasn’t great” and “ha ha, look at this a

hole”. Recognizing that maybe you phrased something awkwardly? Potentially useful. Now you know not to say it that way again next time. Someone making fun of you because you tripped over your words, like everyone does? Not useful at all, and to be discarded. So if someone’s making fun of you for, say, not being some bulls

t ideal? It’s not useful, it marks them as an a

hole and you’re free to disregard their bulls

t.

But what about those times when it triggers memories of the awkward thing you did 20 years ago? Well, first of all, welcome to the human race; we all do this. Gronk the caveman undoubtedly winced at the time when he was 5 and he mistook a bunny in the brush as a pouncing sabertooth tiger and freaked out, leading Thud and Trog to laugh at him.

Of course, that’s not much relief in the moment. Right then and there, you feel like you’ve been transported back in time so you get the fun of reliving your initial trauma all over again because hey, nothing says “double-edged sword” like the human psyche’s negativity bias. So what do you do when you feel those feelings bubble up like methane farts from a swamp?

You name them. “Oh hey, I feel this old feeling of X”. Be specific. Is it embarrassment? Shame? Mortification? Remorse? The more finely you can name that feeling, the more you’re able to process it. But just as importantly is the way that you name it. Notice how very carefully I said “I feel” and “this old feeling”. These are critical because words have power, and the way we describe things changes how we see them. When you say “I feel embarrassed” instead of “I am embarrassed”, you’re changing the situation. The latter is describing a state of being – you are defined by being embarrassed. Saying that you feel a certain way emphasizes that this is a temporary situation; you feel this way now, but you aren’t defined by it.

Similarly, saying “this old feeling of” reminds you: this is just the echo of an emotion. It’s something from your past, something that is over and done with. You don’t need to let it rule you because it’s your past. It’s there to give you the path forward – being able to do better next time. Even if your current situation brings up those old echoes, that doesn’t mean that they’re valid. It’s just a memory – something that happened long ago and that is no longer relevant. You’ve changed, you’ve grown and you’ve improved. This is just the ghost of your old self and like a ghost, it’s all noise with no substance. It can’t hurt you unless you let it provoke you into doing something stupid.

So: let the feeling wash over you, note it, name it and let it pass you by. 

And again: you’re allowed to be sensitive. Some people feel things more acutely than others and that’s fine. It’s not a bug in the system, it’s just part of who you are. Embrace it as part of your wonderful uniqueness. The less you make it a defining flaw, the less it becomes a thing to fight against and the more it becomes simply just a fact about you – not good, not bad, just there… and perfectly, wonderfully normal.

Good luck.

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

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: Earlier this year I was diagnosed with high-functioning autism and it made my entire 21 years of life make absolute sense. I don’t want you to have an image in your head of some introverted monotone robot (in my experience that’s just a caricature of an aspie).

In my case, I want you to picture a skinny literature student with floppy hair and eccentric dress sense who has a close group of friends, loves going to parties, was heavily involved in his university’s drama society (on the committee and directing two self-written plays), everyone likes, everyone somehow thinks is an absolute comic genius, but has never had anything close to a romantic relationship, or even a deep one-on-one connection.

This is going to get quite rambly – I’m sorry in advance.

Quite frankly, I think of myself like a clown. I’m a spectacle people admire from a distance and have fun with. Everyone likes me, but no one wants anything to do with me outside a pleasant conversation (and even then, I tend to be the one having to start those conversations).

But I do start those conversations – I try to be that outgoing person. At parties when me and my friends don’t know anyone, they’ll rely on me to waltz up to a random group and introduce everyone. Unable to navigate nuanced social mechanisms, I just bulldoze through in the hopes it works (something like “Hi! I don’t know anyone here. Who are you?”). It works just fine for parties, but in my experience it won’t allow me to build a connection.

Because flirting is all about subtly, right? Well that’s beyond me. My idea of flirting is seeing a girl I’m interested in, starting a conversation … and then usually end up lecturing her about the finer points of Godzilla (I say ‘lecture’, but I’m not so conversationally clueless that I’m not letting her speak or listening to her – I’m not an idiot). This is a tiny exaggeration obviously; I don’t literally suddenly start talking about Godzilla, but I always end up talking about silly things that don’t matter (Godzilla, Fun Facts that I’m not even sure are true but have repeated so much anyway, the beauty of the Yu-Gi-Oh GX dub, etc). Well, again, that’s still a slight exaggeration: I do also still talk about more normal things like the other person’s life and interests, but it never builds to anything. To put it simply, I can *only* do small-talk. But people like talking to me: they laugh at my jokes, admire my quirkiness, seemingly enjoy my company … but that’s it. Like I say, I’m just a clown.

I’ve tried Tinder. On the blue-moon occasion I get a match, nothing ever develops. This is despite the fact that I think I have some great pictures and am (although realistically speaking, a niche taste) not unattractive.

Even when it comes to friendships, I have no goddamn clue what I’m doing. I have a fantastic close-knit group of friends who I adore and who care about me, yada-yada. But I can’t help but feel I’m only friends with them because we live together, and I definitely think of them as being much closer with each other than any one of them is to me.

I try to keep my head up. I’m only 21. I’ve just graduated uni and my whole life is ahead of me. But at the same time, I don’t want to be a clown. Or rather, I don’t want to be just a clown. I want to be a clown people don’t just like being around but want to be around. A clown people would choose first, a clown who has one person they know better than anyone else does. Or even just a clown people want to f

k, quite frankly.

Sorry with the rambliness. But does a person with my neurological condition have any hope of interacting with people like a normal human being? (Rhetorical question obviously; intellectually I know it’s possible, but intuitively I struggle to understand how.)

Sincerely,

Horny Pagliacci

DEAR HORNY PAGLIACCI: Let’s start with the last question first, HP: Yes, clearly you’re capable of interacting with people like someone who’s neurotypical or without causing a fuss. I mean, you have a tight-knit group of friends, you have a lot of hobbies and interest that keep you social and your friends rely on you to actually start interactions with other folks. You’re able to get through your day like everyone else. Clearly: you’re not having problems where you’re not able to interact with mainstream society.

But that’s not the question you’re asking. The question you’re asking is: “is being neuroatypical going to prevent you from being in relationships?” And again: the answer is no. I mean, I know far too many people on the spectrum of all genders who are happily partnered up to one degree or another. Being autistic doesn’t mean that you’re doomed to being single or unlovable.

Nor, for that matter, is the issue that you can’t be subtle. Yes, some styles of flirting can be subtle. Hell, some can be so subtle that folks have no goddamn clue whether they’re being flirted with. But other styles of flirting can be as subtle as a brick to the head. As I’ve said many times before — including to Organic Chemistry yesterday — flirting is just the way you tell someone you’re interested in them. For some, this is all about the wordplay and banter. For others, it’s like being a much-less creepy and touchy Pepe LePew. That’s not the issue you’re having.

The main issue that you’re not really connecting with people. The clue here is in the way you describe yourself: as a big clown who makes people laugh and plows through the awkward like a bulldozer.

A lot of folks who can make people laugh often have a hard time going from there to building the sorts of romantic or personal connections with other people. It’s very easy to just keep going for that laugh and those good feelings… but at that point, you’re not flirting, you’re putting on a performance, not connecting with them. I suspect that, like a lot of folks, once you realized that you could make people laugh, you came to over-rely on that. After all, women do like men who can make them laugh. The problem, though, is that you have to be careful how you use it. It becomes far too easy to end up putting on a performance instead of connecting with people.

This is something I actually had an issue with in my early days; I got too good at making people laugh (and too reliant on pre-scripted routines) that people didn’t feel like I was flirting with them, they thought I was workshopping a bit for the next open mic night at Capitol City Comedy. That can put people off, especially when they were expecting a conversation, not a Night at the Improv.

That’s a big part of your issue: you don’t turn it off or turn it down. Not that enthusiasm is bad or that having passion is bad, or that you’re passionate about things other people aren’t. Passion is great, intensity can be great; most people don’t have passion in their lives. However, it’s possible to be too intense to a point that it’s overwhelming. It’s not just a case of “My Godzilla facts: let me show you them” (and trust me, I’ve got a good friend who’s got you beat on the Godzilla fandom), it’s that it sounds like you tend to be at a 10 and they need you at a 3. It’s very easy to end up with far too much of a good thing, especially in a flirting context. Robin Williams was one of the funniest people to ever walk the earth, period, but he would be exhausting if he was going full-tilt boogie at all times. It can be hard to have a conversation with someone if it becomes the equivalent of trying to drink from the firehose every time you get spun up.

You may not be cracking jokes all the time, but if you have just two settings with one being “normal but uninterested” and the other being This One Goes To 11, then folks are going to have a hard time feeling like they’re getting to know the real you. So you need to put some practice into learning how to turn the dial back a little. Passion is great, having interests in geeky s

t is great. But going into either wacky clown or lecture modes makes it hard to really connect with people and jokes can quickly become a shield against intimacy.

And it’s entirely possible that this is a defense mechanism as much as part of your being on the spectrum. Connecting with people and building attraction means building emotional intimacy; that requires being open and vulnerable. It can be scary to do that, especially if you have a difficult time with gauging how much is appropriate and how much is too much. But keeping that shield up through the performative clowning keeps them from connecting to you at all beyond a very surface level, which isn’t what you want.

I think the best thing for you will to be practicing dialing back the Pagliacci act and letting people see beyond the grease paint. It can be hard, especially if you have issues with grasping social nuances, but it can be learned. It will mean having to take risks and be willing to make mistakes as you try to find the lines between “appropriate” and “too much”. But if you’re willing to be brave, to take chances and to learn from them? Then you’ll start finding the ways that you can incorporate your humor and gifts for making people laugh into connecting with people and becoming the person they want to get to know well.

And then you won’t have to be the clown that’s crying on the inside.

Good luck.

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

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: Despite all my efforts, my dating life has been awfully devoid of romantic connections, and I have an inkling that I might be creating that problem for myself. Maybe you can help clarify things.

Some background: I’m male and 27. I used to be a shy kid in school, had few (but mostly close) friends. The very idea of opening up to someone romantically was scary and embarrassing. Having blossomed at university, I found what I’d like to think of as my true self. I’m a lot more outgoing and charismatic than back then. Finding friends has become easy and I have a bunch of interesting and social hobbies. And about five years ago, I started dipping my toes in the dating pool and conquering my fear of vulnerability. Huzzah!

Fast forward to now: I’ve gone on first dates with almost 60 women, most of whom I got to know through Tinder and OKCupid. Rarely was there a second date, which I understand is somewhat par for the course online. And exactly twice has there been a connection that was more than “kind of a nice person, but nah”. In both cases, things fizzled out around date three. That, frankly, is frustrating.

One of the conclusions I’ve drawn is that while I think I can play the online dating game fairly well (i.e. find people to go on first dates with), it doesn’t feel fulfilling. The whole experience is just more interesting and intense IRL. That I can work with. But conclusion #2 stumps me: I think have a hard time flirting.

On the one hand, I find it hard to show romantic interest in someone, in particular in groups. “What if everyone sees I might be into her?!” On the other hand, I tend to question my interest. I often wonder how much interest I should have in someone in order to ask her out. What do I need to feel or think about her in order to get physically close? Sure, she’s interesting and I like looking at her – but is that enough to warrant the occasional light touch here and there? I have a hunch that since I don’t overtly/physically flirt in these situations, the women I’m on dates with never get a chance to actually feel if they are, in turn, attracted to me. So it looks like we’re not attracted to each other (or we’re both unsure) but we might hit it off if I just took that leap.

Does that make sense? If so, what can I do apart from making the steadfast resolution to flirt physically (and then chicken out)?

Organic Chemistry

DEAR ORGANIC CHEMISTRY: You nailed it on the first try, OC: you’re not flirting.

One of the things that makes dating more than a little maddening is how often we’re given precisely the WRONG advice.  The UR example of bad advice is “just be yourself”, which sounds reasonable — don’t pretend to be someone you’re not just to be liked — but doesn’t actually help because… well, what about when “being yourself” is exactly the problem?

Just as importantly is the distressing idea that taking an active hand in building a connection with other people is bad or artificial. Men especially are prone to being taught that social fluency — and dating especially — is a binary: either you’re naturally good with women or you aren’t. And if you attempt to learn how to improve your ability to connect with people you’re romantically interested in, then you’re either a loser or a shady manipulator. The idea that people can learn how to flirt, how to build chemistry and forge connections with people is seen as the mark of the conman, the grifter or the pick-up artist and is to be seen with suspicion at best.

It creates a world where we’re supposed to do as little as possible to improve our odds. We passively drift through our lives, expecting fate to do the heavy lifting for us; if it’s “real” or “meant to be” then it’ll happen. If not… well, what can you do?

The problem with this outlook is that it creates scenarios where folks miss out on potentially amazing connections and relationships because they’re stuck in a moment of paralysis; you’re waiting for lightning to strike and generate that chemistry for you instead of taking control of the process and making things happen. It creates these weird moments where we’re lost in our own heads, trying to determine whether or not we should be doing something because what if, what if, what if.

That’s where you’re at currently, OC: you’re stuck in your own head with a bad case of analysis paralysis, trying to figure out whether you should be taking active control or just letting things happen on their own. You need to take a more active hand in your own love life.

The first step towards this is getting out of this mindset that your liking someone or being attracted to them is somehow negative, shameful or puts you at a disadvantage. This “oh no, what if they know I like them” sort of mindset is something you expect in 10 and 11 year olds who’re still working past the “girls/boys are icky” stages or being afraid of being teased for liking the popular girl in high-school. It’s not something that’s helpful or productive in a grown-ass adult. It’s even less helpful when it gets framed as “the one who cares least, wins”.  You need to own your desire and your interest and be willing to communicate it to others. That, after all, is the whole point of flirting: it’s a way of telling someone that you like them in ways that are fun and interesting.

Here’s the thing: one of the things that women hate about dating is the ambiguity and the games. There’re few things more frustrating than trying to read the tea leaves and figure out what it meant when someone did X, Y or Z. Someone who’s fairly straight forward with their attraction and can express it in a clear and charismatic manner? That person’s a goddamn prize. Think of it as clearing away the barriers to connection and helping draw people out of their shell; after all, women on first and second can be just as nervous and unsure as you are. By taking charge and clear the path for them that lets them relax and open up and express themselves enthusiastically, you’re giving them a gift.

The next step is to stop overthinking everything. By trying to gauge your interest — whether you’ve hit the “OK to ask her out” level of attraction — you’re making everything far more complicated than it actually needs to be. It’s much simpler than that: do you find them attractive and interesting? Would you like to know more about them and see if they’ve got more going for them than what’s on the surface? Then ask them out on a date and find out.

Flirting isn’t about meeting some minimum threshold before you can start expressing interest. Flirting is about communication and connection, building interest and attraction through the cultivation of sexual and emotional chemistry. It’s about finding the potential for the two of you, then using that potential as a foundation and building something together.

But none of that can happen until you make it clear that what you’re looking for is a relationship — whether that relationship is for the next thirty years or the next thirty minutes. So if you want someone to know you’re into them, you’re gonna have to show them.

Someone’s gotta make the first move. May as well be you.

Good luck.

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