DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I discovered your blog recently and have been reading through many of your posts. I appreciate the strong grasp you have on dating/romance, so I thought it might be a good idea to ask about something I’m struggling with.

I’m a 31yo transmasc nonbinary person (they/he) who was just able, three years ago, to move from my abusive Mormon family’s home and start transitioning. My gender transition so far has had a huge positive effect on most life areas. However, romance is an area where I still have a really hard time. Partly because I’ve spent most my life under the power of a controlling family and religion, I have no romantic/sexual experience beyond a few chaste dates back during college. I’m a highly romantic person who has dreamed of love my entire life, but I just can’t seem to find the courage to make a move.

As well as being transgender/nonbinary and having no experience, I am disabled – autistic with multiple chronic illnesses – and unable to work more than 12hr/week, which means I am dependent on government support, now that my relationship with my family has broken. I’m also very demisexual, so I basically have to fall in love BEFORE I feel sexual attraction, which has just happened three times in my three decades. I have gender dysphoria connected to sex that means I have some additional hard boundaries there. All of this makes me feel that it’ll be a difficult prospect to find someone who fits me and wants to date me. Honestly, in a society this unfriendly and unsupportive for people like me, I am likely to be a major burden for any partner. My therapists say that my high level of emotional maturity, compassion, and responsiveness can make up for my practical/financial problems, and I see their point, but I can’t help but feel bad for the trouble I’d cause my future partner, particularly as the political situation worsens.

I’ve been in therapy for over a decade now, working through disability trauma, queer/sexual trauma, family trauma, and religious trauma, and I have made huge strides in the past three years especially. My therapists and my friends – most of whom are queer women, the demographic I’d primarily like to date – say that I probably need to just get out there now so I can experience how things are different/better in the general dating scene than in the Mormon dating scene. But I have spent months making excuses about how I want to be further through my transition, and I’m constantly moving the goalposts. Really, I’m scared that people won’t like the person I am becoming. After all, there’s good reason I hid my real self for nearly three decades. I keep wanting to test the waters, see how my friends react to my gender-related changes before I try to get into romance.

So ultimately, any time I consider getting on dating apps or anything like that, I feel very panicky. There’s a part of me that’s convinced people will laugh at me for daring to think anyone would find it worth the risk to date me. But social connection is the meaning of life for me, and at this point, it feels like romance is the last area I really want to be sure to explore before I die – and I’ve honestly felt death on my heels for most my life, which the current political circumstances don’t help. I don’t want to waste too much time because I might not HAVE that much time.

I definitely COULD push through the anxiety, but I don’t want to destabilize my emotional and mental health, particularly given how tied my physical health symptoms are to stress and anxiety. So my question for you is this: how do you know if you’ve healed enough from past trauma to push through the leftover anxiety and get out onto the dating scene?

Out Of Emotional Traction

DEAR OUT OF EMOTIONAL TRACTION: First of all, OET, I want to tell you how proud of you I am. You’ve been through some heinous f--kery, and even at a time when being trans is more fraught and dangerous than it’s been in a long, long time, you’ve had the strength and courage to deal with your trauma, refute the bulls—t sold to you and to be your best, truest and most authentic self. That’s f--king huge and you should celebrate that. 

I have a sneaking suspicion that this is all anxiety, OET, not lingering trauma. I don’t mean that you didn’t go through serious trauma and didn’t need a lot of healing – you clearly did. But I think that much of what you’re experiencing are the scars that the trauma left behind. It’s a little like being thrown from a horse and then being nervous around horses again; your problem is ultimately that what you went through rocked your s—t so hard that you’re understandably afraid of what might happen if you try.

And in this case, it sounds to me like a lot of what you’re anxious about is entirely in your head – you’re engaging in the World’s Worst Superpower: Worst-Case Scenario vision. You are imagining all these horrible things happening because you had the temerity, the gall… to present yourself as a potential match on a dating app. How dare you, OET? At long last, have you no sense of decency?

If that sounds like an absurd and over the top reaction to your getting on the apps… well, that’s because it is. It sounds silly when you hear it coming from somewhere else because it’s not coming from your head. That’s the thing about our brains; they treat what we imagine as though it were real. Those moments you’re imagining are hitting you like a hammer because your brain is responding to them as though it actually happened. In a very real way, you’re just hurting your own feelings.

But this means that you have the ability to flip that switch just as effectively. You can, instead, imagine putting yourself out there – whether it means getting on the apps or simply being open to meeting someone out in the world – and it all goes incredibly well. You can picture meeting someone, even many someones, who are down for what you have to offer. People who are so intrigued by you that the things you see as hideous drawbacks are, in fact, not that big a deal. And your brain can and will respond to those with the same level of “yup, this is happening” as the nightmares.

But the bigger issue here isn’t that you’re talking yourself down and imagining worst-case scenarios, so much as you’re getting a little out over your skis. You’re getting spun up about things that aren’t happening and haven’t happened and may not happen, but treating them like they’re an inevitability. Everything from “the hideous burden I will end up being on my partner” to “people will laugh at me” are all borrowing trouble from the future, a future that may never come to pass, but you’re treating it as though it were an inevitability.

That’s one part of it. The other is that it seems to me as though you see this as an all-or-nothing deal – that you’re expecting storybook love or nothing at all. And while that’s very romantic… it’s also intimidating the f--k out of you. Fantasies are great, because they can be whatever you want them to be and to progress exactly how you want them to. A real relationship, however, is messy and often complicated and full of moving parts. It can go off in directions you never expected or never anticipated and you – so the feeling goes – are responsible for all of it. So the idea of trying to live the fantasy, even a toned-down, much more realistic one? That’s terrifying.

So my suggestion is very simple: slow your roll and adjust your expectations. You don’t need – nor should you expect – a storybook romance right off the bat. What you want and what you should do is simply take on a mindset of “well, I am going to see what’s out there; maybe I’ll meet the love of my life and maybe I’ll just make some friends and maybe I’ll come out of this with some interesting stories.”

This is your first real attempt at dating, and honestly, it’ll be better to see this as learning about yourself rather than expecting your first relationship to also be your last. You are going to learn a lot about who you are when you’re part of a couple, how much of what you think you want is or isn’t what you want in reality and whether what you want and what you need are in alignment with one another.

If you go in expecting Princess Charming to sweep you off your feet and the credits to roll on your happily ever after… well, that’s not likely to happen. But if you go in with a willingness to just see, to ease your way in and see what comes your way? That’s going to give you space to relax and experience, rather than getting spun up with expectations that life may not ever match.

Now, under normal circumstances, I’d say you should put more of a focus on meeting people in person and going out and doing things that you love with other people. But these aren’t normal circumstances, and the current political situation means that you, like other trans people, are under a f--kload of pressure and legitimate threat. So while I still do recommend prioritizing meeting people in person, making friends and seeing if love can, in fact, bloom on the battlefield… I’d recommend that maybe you should be looking primarily in queer, trans-affirming and trans-inclusive spaces. Love is hard enough as it is; you don’t need to add a layer of difficulty by wondering if the person you met at the Barnes and Noble thinks you don’t deserve basic civil rights and dignity.

But hey, queer and trans people have existed the entire time humans have lived on this planet, including times when it was far worse than the s—tstorm we’re in now. Love ain’t a delicate thing. Love, like trans joy, is a goddamn cockroach, that keeps coming back no matter how many times folks try to squish it. So I would say that being open to finding love and companionship and joy, even if you take it on a slow and more measured pace? Well, that’s you spitting in the eye of everyone you think would laugh at you for daring to hope, never mind actually pursue love.

Like the song says: Dare to keep all your dreams alive. It’s time to take a stand.

This is going to be intimidating. You’re going to be pushing yourself in ways you haven’t let yourself even consider. But that’s the whole point – to challenge yourself, push yourself and overcome those fears and supposed handicaps. Taking it a little slow doesn’t mean that you’re not serious or not doing it the right way; you’re working with the way you know best while you figure it out.

But the fact that you’re doing it at all? That’s huge. That’s bold. That’s daring.

And you can win if you dare.

All will be well.

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

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m reaching out because I’ve been feeling a bit lost when it comes to relationships, and I’m hoping to get your perspective. At a recent event, I found myself feeling unexpectedly envious and isolated, which made me realize that there are some things I need to explore and understand.

A bit of context: in my twenties, I didn’t always make the best choices when it came to friendships. I’m naturally empathetic, and I’ve always felt a strong connection to people going through hard times, given that I’ve experienced my own challenges. Unfortunately, most of those connections ended up being unhealthy for me, and I had to let go of them for the sake of my mental health. Most of my social circle back then was made up of women around my age, many of whom I met in university. I’ve always connected more easily with women than with men, and this was a big part of my social life.

Since the lockdown, I’ve been trying to rebuild my social life, but I’m essentially starting from scratch. It’s been a bit of a mixed experience. I’ve met a lot of people and I’m generally well-liked in the circles I’m part of, but I haven’t found any deep, lasting connections. I’m starting to think it’s a compatibility issue. Most of the people I meet are either older, already have their established groups of friends, or are in relationships, so their time is limited or they don’t seem interested in creating new, sustained bonds.

Despite this, I keep getting unsolicited praise, telling me how great I am. Whether it’s in professional settings or through my hobby groups, I get constant compliments — how I’m “amazing,” how I “should” be in a relationship, or how I’m “attractive.” It’s all flattering and I do appreciate it, but it also creates this odd distance. For instance, a group of women I see in one of my hobby classes recently got together for drinks and apparently had a conversation about how surprised they were that I’m still single. I never know how to respond to comments like that, especially since I’ve never been on a date, so I usually just deflect and move the conversation along.

Here’s the thing: despite all the positive feedback, I’ve noticed that women in my age group (roughly 20-30) don’t seem to be interested in connecting with me, even at surface level. Aside from a couple of women I met in one particular class, the majority seem either distant or uncomfortable when I try to engage with them. This is even when I do get a chance to interact, which doesn’t happen often. They’re not always women I find attractive either, so it’s not as if I’m putting them on a pedestal. It’s really frustrating, and I’m not sure how to navigate it – especially since all the external signs suggest otherwise. This is where the feelings of envy and loneliness start to creep in. I want to connect with these women and possibly date, but it feels like they’re just not interested. As a result, I’m starting to feel like I’m somehow not worthy of their attention or a meaningful connection.

It’s especially confusing because, as I said earlier, throughout my life I’ve always been able to form easy connections with women – people who found me fun, comfortable, and easy to talk to. That seems to be missing now, and I’m struggling to figure out why.

I’d really appreciate your thoughts on this, as I’m not sure where to go from here.

Connection Error 633

DEAR CONNECTION ERROR 633: This isn’t something you asked about, CE6, but this leapt out at me and I think it’s relevant: “I’ve always felt a strong connection to people going through hard times, given that I’ve experienced my own challenges. Unfortunately, most of those connections ended up being unhealthy for me” and “Most of my social circle back then was made up of women around my age”.

This is something I’ve seen a lot in guys in situations like yours. Hell, it’s something I see in who I was back in the day: it’s White Knight Syndrome. It’s the sense that you aren’t “worthy” enough to “deserve” love or affection or companionship on your own, and so you have to “earn” it in such a way that it elevates you. It’s a form of neediness and it’s not surprising that it ends up leading you into relationships that were ultimately not healthy for you. Toxic people love White Knights; their boundaries are weak and they’re easily manipulated because they don’t feel like they have the right to things like standards or boundaries.

But even when you’re not dealing with toxic a--hats who’re taking advantage of you, you’re still putting yourself in positions of trying to help with problems that you simply can’t help with. You lack the qualification and training, and enthusiasm and a can-do attitude aren’t going to make up for it. And that’s before things like “caretaker fatigue” set in and the frustration of realizing that YOU aren’t magic enough to fix a problem by existing.

The thing is White Knight Syndrome – like a lot of forms of neediness – only gets resolved by developing your own sense of worth and internal validation. Without that, folks tend to go down one of two paths: leaning even harder into it (leading to outcomes that are commensurate with said leaning) or falling into a malaise of confusion and despair.

That second outcome tends to also come with a side of greater passivity and giving up your sense of control – something that I think is what’s plaguing you now.

Here’s the thing: the reason you are confused by things like your fellow hobbyists being surprised that you’re single is two-fold. The first is that you’re on the other end of something I point out to folks all the time: we don’t see the entirety of a person’s existence. We only see a small sliver of it, and only the parts that we’re there for – never the context, never what leads up to it or comes after. Your hobby friends are seeing how you behave when you’re around them and extrapolating based on that.

Because you’re acting in a way that reads more relaxed, personable and comfortable, they’re assuming that you’re like that all the time. It follows that they would then further assume that this would make you considerably more in demand as a partner.

But they’re not seeing the way you behave and act when you’re not there, nor do they have the 24/7 feed of the inside of your head. So they’re basing their assumptions about you on the highlight reel, not the unedited footage. In this case, it’s more positive than comparing your unedited footage to someone else’s incredibly curated portfolio piece, but that’s part of the disconnect.

And it’s what they’re not seeing – and honestly, what you seem to not be seeing – that’s part of what’s cooking your noodle here.

Looking at your current situation, what I’m seeing is someone who gives up at the first sign of friction, whether real or imagined. The big reason you’re struggling to make meaningful connections is that you’re being very passive and only willing to make an effort if the path is as smooth and as clear and easy as possible. Anything else and you give up quickly.

There’s a lot of points in your letter where you’re making assumptions about people based on your view of yourself and letting those assumptions dictate your actions and poison the outcome. Take, for example, the idea that folks with social circles are simply done making friends. While it’s often true that trying to find time to hang out with your friends gets harder as you get older, that’s very different from the assumption that they’re just not interested making friends or meeting new people, or integrating new people into their social circle. That’s drawing a lot of conclusions based on facts not in evidence and it goes right back to that low sense of self-worth. You’re telling yourself that people who already have friends wouldn’t be interested in also being friends with you or bringing you into their social circles because what reason would they have to bring you in? You feel as though the people who would want to be friends or have a closer, more meaningful relationship are folks who don’t have better options already.

The problem here is that because you think these folks couldn’t possibly be interested in you because you’re you, you don’t put in the same level of effort that you would otherwise. You’ve assumed you’ve failed before you even started, and so you half-ass it… maybe even just quarter-ass it. But the fact that you’re half or quarter-assing it is a big part of why you fail; making friends requires you give them the full ass.

The same goes for people who are older or who are in relationships. Yeah, they may not be the people you want to date… but they can be your friends. You can have friends who aren’t within +- 2 years of your age you know or who are partnered. And they also know other people – people who may well be single and looking for a guy like you!

But to do that, you have to be willing to put more than a token effort into trying to make friends with them. You also have to stop deflecting or pushing people away if they bring up your good qualities or say things like “wow, I’m surprised you’re single”. It’s a lot harder to build the sorts of connections you want when you keep swatting compliments away or refusing to accept that maybe people honestly think this about you.

When they bring up their being surprised that you’re single and you deflect or change the topic, you’re reinforcing your own feelings about yourself. You’re trying to ward off the possibility that you may be more than you believe because… well, because you won’t let yourself believe it. You could say “yeah, it’s a mystery to me too, so if you know anyone you think I might vibe with, hook a dude up!” or even “aw, thank you! I sincerely appreciate that!” Instead, you refuse to accept it and – in the process – put another barrier between you and people who are trying to be your friends.

This is why solving you issue requires that you stop assuming that you are so unworthy, so unlikeable that people “with options” wouldn’t like or accept you. You have to be willing to invest time and energy into making friends and realize that the key to building and maintaining stronger friendships is regular and repeat contact instead of trying to speedrun it and deciding that it’s impossible when it doesn’t work out.

And honestly, there’s a lot here that makes me wonder how much of that the unwillingness or discomfort with being closer you mention is your perception rather than reality. I suspect that at least part of the issue is the way that you’re going about trying to get closer with people.

I wish you’d said more about your efforts and what actually happened, because the vague generalities you give are, well, vague and general. They don’t provide much insight or data to work with.

There are, however, a few things in your letter that make me think that your behavior changes when you’re trying to get closer with people.

Let me ask you a serious question, and I want you to put some thought into the answer: do you tend to get more intense or more personal with those people you said seemed distant or uncomfortable? Is it possible that, because you feel like you’re trying to achieve a specific goal here, that you get a little over your skis? I ask because hooo damn did I get the same way, back in the bad old days. I have snatched defeat from the jaws of victory far more often than I care to think, because I got weird about it, instead of just being the guy I was when I wasn’t trying.

Yeah, I know, “try without trying” is like a stupid person’s idea of a Zen koan, but it’s true. Think of it like Bill Murray trying to win over Andi MacDowell in Groundhog’s Day. You can watch him try harder and harder to make it happen, especially after he almost got there the first time, and it keeps getting increasingly less authentic, more desperate and more disturbing.

I suspect that’s part of what’s going on and what’s getting in the way. It’s not about the effort, so much as the intensity. And that intensity is there because you’re struggling with that sense of worth and deservedness; you end up feeling like you’re in a race to lock things down before they wise up and reject you. And because you’re coming into these interactions half-rejected in your own mind, you end up starting off feeling like there’s not much point and so you barely try. However, when there’re times when you sense that there’s a chance you might pull it off this time, you get keyed up. Either way, you end up making a mess out of it and just reinforcing the idea that you’re not worthy.

You are capable of impressing people and getting them to like you and be interested in you when you aren’t actively trying to get them to date you. Those hobbyist friends who are surprised you’re still single are proof. The way you behave with them is the way you should be behaving with the people you might want to be closer with or might want to date – just with more intentionality, less passivity, and a hell of a lot less giving up so quickly.

A lot is going to be contingent on slowing your roll and letting things develop at their own pace. Taking the energy you have with the hobby friends you’ve impressed and bringing that to having some one-on-one conversations with the folks you want to get closer to, without angling for more, will get you a lot farther. Most friendships tend to be born out of just hanging out and talking; the closeness and intimacy comes as you get to know each other and earn one another’s trust. That takes time.

But that is going to require that you let go of a lot of assumptions and prejudgments. You’re going to have to focus on enjoying the conversation for the conversation’s sake, rather than seeing it as the first step onto a relationship escalator. And you’re going to have to start learning how to see your own worth and embrace your own value �– seeing yourself as someone folks would love to get to know, not the lesser option. This is why I keep telling people: you have to be your own best friend and biggest hype man. Gas yourself up the way you’d talk up your best friend. Treat yourself like a priority, not an option, so you stop thinking that’s all that you deserve.

That makes it easier to actually want to invest the time to make friends and to push past the first signs of friction. If the only way you can connect with people is if the path is as smooth, straight and direct as a drag race, you’re going to be holding yourself back from a circle of friends for a long, long time.

Start building yourself up, and then pair the same sort of behavior that’s charmed your hobby circle crew with purpose and intention. I think you’ll find the connections come a lot easier and more often if you stop thinking that you’re the lesser choice in the buffet.

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: 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

DEAR 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 any rights 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.

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