How To Be Human is ending. Today is the very last column. I want to thank all of you for reading and for writing to me. I’m grateful so many of you entrusted me with your most difficult problems and thorniest, trickiest questions.  

As I mentioned, this last column is going to answer the additional two questions from last week’s letter. Rather than reprint the whole letter, I’ll just include the questions themselves, because as much as I’m speaking to the letter writer, this one is for all of us.

First, Sagittaire asks:

What’s the line between self-confidence and having pride in one’s self and achievements, and hubris and arrogance? How can I talk grandly of myself (which seems to be the de facto way of demonstrating self-confidence) without feeling guilty? I especially feel guilty about betraying my own belief that my life and achievements are things I primarily do for me, not to brag about or share constantly with others.

You can find that line in the answer to this question: When you talk about yourself or your achievements, what are you hoping will happen? Are you excited about it and want to share? Or do you want something, like other people being jealous or suddenly seeing you as more valuable? I think the difference between self-confidence and arrogance is the degree of security, or insecurity as the case may be.

Let me give you an example not related to achievement. Many years ago, during a breakup, I told a friend of mine I wanted to send an email to my ex telling him how I felt. My friend asked me why I wanted to email him. I told her it was really for myself—I wanted him to know how much he’d hurt me. So she asked, “How are you going to feel if he doesn’t respond?” When I thought about it, I had to be honest with myself: I wanted to email him because I wanted him to respond. Since then, I try to question my own motives and think about why I want to say something and what I want to get out of it. It’s helpful in friendships and relationships, but also in understanding myself.

I used to think that confidence and arrogance were distinguished by volume. My assumption was that, if you were really secure in yourself and felt great about what you did in a deep way, you didn’t need to talk about it. This came from the idea I had about what people like to call “quiet confidence.” But that quietness is more about how you talk about it, rather than whether or not you talk about it. You know when you see someone who is really confident and not arrogant, right? It’s in the way they hold themselves physically, and it’s also evident from how they talk about themselves and what they do. Someone who’s really self-confident doesn’t need you to tell them they did a great job in order to believe it themselves. They also don’t need to use their own accomplishments to make you feel bad about yourself. Instead, they talk about what they’ve accomplished in a way that conveys how much they love what they do or how excited they are about an achievement.

Sure, someone who’s confident still wants others to be excited with and for them! Celebrating with others is a way to express that joy. And needing external approbation in order to thrive doesn’t mean you’re not confident — lots of confident people do best with a little praise from others. Similarly, talking confidently about what you do or being forthright about your own accomplishments isn’t necessarily being arrogant or smug. In fact, sometimes it’s necessary to talk confidently about your own success. Many of us have to recognize and assert ourselves because if we don’t recognize our achievements openly, no one else will.

it’s like you said, Sag — your life and your achievements are for you. You are allowed to be excited about them and want to share that excitement. You’re allowed to acknowledge you’re good at something. Just try to examine your motives when you can. If you realize you want to talk about an achievement so someone will like you better, think about why you assume they won’t like you regardless. If you find you want to brag grandly because someone else is talking about their success and it’s taking the spotlight away from you, hold back.

Last but not least: How to build empathy? Whether it’s in oneself or others, what makes people make the effort to care about others and strive to understand them?

Empathy is something I spend quite a lot of time thinking about. I gave a talk on it last year, and wrote a bit about it a year ago, too.

One of the things I say in the talk is that empathy has become shorthand for our collective desire to give a shit. Don’t get me wrong, I think empathy is important, but I also think we’ve put so much emphasis on empathy without remembering what it is and what it isn’t. There’s a piece I like a lot and refer to in my talk called Against Empathy by a guy named Paul Bloom. (He also has a book by the same title, which I haven’t read yet but plan to.) I recommend reading the piece, even if the title puts you off at first. I’m not going to tl;dr his argument, but I will tell you that he reminds us to separate affective empathy and cognitive empathy, and to think about the effect each has when we value the concept as a whole.

Affective empathy is the emotional kind, the one that allows you to feel another person’s pain. As someone who does this regularly, I can tell you from experience that it’s very hard. I’m glad I’m able to do it, but it’s the sort of thing that can burn you out very quickly and leave you in a vulnerable, difficult position. When you’re the person everyone comes to for emotional support, who’s going to be there to support you? Not everyone is capable of affective empathy, and even those who are aren’t always very good at it.

Cognitive empathy is different. It’s not about slipping into another person’s emotional state or being able to feel their pain but is instead a process by which you work to understand their perspective or worldview. And by understand I don’t necessarily mean agree with or support. I mean hear it and learn about it. Once you have that understanding, you can make a more informed decision about how you want to act, or whether you want to act at all.

Cognitive empathy is about hearing someone — like really hearing what they have to say. Sometimes that’s part of their problem, feeling like they’re not being heard! Sometimes, being heard and acknowledged by someone who’s able to empathize with us is the thing that allows us to let go of our anger or fear and change our minds. Not always, but sometimes!

You see, empathy isn’t the same thing as compassion. Empathizing with someone isn’t the same thing as solving their problem. You might not be able to, or you might not want to. But even if you empathize or sympathize with someone (two different things!), that’s not the same as engaging in a compassionate act. It’s not the same as actively working to solve whatever is causing them to suffer. This is why it’s possible to understand someone’s perspective, to have cognitive empathy, but to have no interest in empathizing emotionally or in doing anything to solve that person’s problem. It’s like when someone’s asked to “empathize” with people who have abused them and who certainly haven’t empathized in return. The worldview of a dominant force is pretty clear to most people, except perhaps to the dominant force itself.

This is what I think is the key to empathy and what makes it so difficult. The very first steps are the hardest. In order to empathize with someone:

You have to accept you don’t know everything.

You have to accept you’re not the expert on someone else’s perspective or lived experience.

You have to be willing to listen, even when you want to interrupt, correct, or dismiss them.

You have to ask questions rather than offer solutions.

You have to accept that you have biases and assumptions you need to question.

You have to be willing to feel uncomfortable.

You have to make a good faith effort.

You have to listen.

I look at that list and think, good lord, that’s a lot of hard work. Hard, human work that you have to do on the spot, which means you’ll mess it up a lot. You’ll probably get hurt or hurt other people, and get angry and defensive, and feel like it’s all a waste of time. But if you keep trying, it’s incredibly rewarding. Even if you’re not able or willing to do anything to help, actively empathizing with someone teaches you about them, the world, and yourself. In the best cases, it allows you to make a rational choice about how to be compassionate toward that person and how to most effectively help them.

You can’t empathize with everyone. First off, there’s not enough time in the universe for you to do that, and second, a lot of people don’t want to do the work of empathy, even if it’s being empathized with. They’d rather insult you or be cruel. But empathizing with those who want to engage is a gift. It reminds me to listen and learn, to not assume I already know. It teaches me that not everything is for me, just as many things are for me that haven’t been for others. Empathizing has shown how to better question my assumptions and to quietly, constantly recalibrate my own perspective and worldview. It’s also forced me to be more patient with people, because I know that no matter how hard you work, recalibrating your understanding of the world around you is difficult. Everyone fumbles. Everyone has biases. Everyone has perspectives they can change. Even the best, smartest, kindest among us have terrible, even ignorant opinions. But that’s how to be human. At least, that’s how to be the kind of human I want to be: complicated, messy, open to change, willing to learn, ready to do better. Change means sometimes we’re going to get it right and sometimes we’re going to get it wrong. Change takes time.

Being human takes time. And not just any time, but a lifetime. Why not start now?

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Dear Leah,

I was never the best at writing a good beginning for an email, and this sentence only serves to demonstrate the need for asking this particular first question: What’s the line between self-confidence and having pride in one’s self and achievements, and hubris and arrogance? How can I talk grandly of myself (which seems to be the de facto way of demonstrating self-confidence) without feeling guilty? I especially feel guilty about betraying my own belief that my life and achievements are things I primarily do for me, not to brag about or share constantly with others.

My second question is: How do I get romantically invested or interested in others? I’m around that age where almost everybody is a self-proclaimed expert in relationships, and I fail to be interested in having a relationship (with either gender, and being in a county where queer relationships are legally punishable doesn’t help with the whole experimentation part). I mean my crushes were far and between, but it’s been so long that I’ve been romantically interested in someone that I’m starting to wonder if relationships for men (especially those who are seemingly aromantic as myself) are simply about exploiting the other party for leisure, company and “fun” (which sounds rather disappointing considering how grandly everyone seems to think of “love,” not to mention quite demeaning and dehumanizing of women)?

Last but not least: How to build empathy? Whether it’s in oneself or others, what makes people make the effort to care about others and strive to understand them?

PS: As you might have realized not all these questions have that “one” answer, and to be honest I’m not looking for a perfect answer, just a nudge in the right direction would help, and I really can’t think of anyone better on the internet to do so than you.

Sagittaire.

Hey Sagittaire,

What a great letter! I love these questions, and as you probably know, I think about each one of them rather a lot on my own. But three questions are a lot for one column, especially three different questions like this. Here’s what I’m going to do.

First, I’ll start with some news: My column is ending this month. The Verge has decided to bring it to a close, so the next column will be my last one. I’ve been thinking about how I’d like to end it, and I can’t think of a better way than with your last question. I’ll answer your first question then, too. This means you get two columns, Sag!

Let’s talk about your second question. I don’t know how old you are — because honestly “that age where almost everybody is a self proclaimed expert in relationships” could be anywhere from 15 to 105 — but I’m going to assume you’re in your very early 20s. Maybe in your late teens? It’s hard to tell, but regardless of how old you are, and despite what you may think about your own knowledge level on the subject, you already have some good insights into human behavior around relationships. It’s just a matter of interpreting those insights.

I’ve written before about being single and the pressures to find a relationship, and I’ve also written about the ways social norms have such an impact on how we feel and behave — and on how we think we should feel and behave. A lot of the bluster you hear about relationships from those self-proclaimed experts is probably as much about that pressure and those norms as it is about any actual expertise. Just as you’re trying to sort out how you feel, and whether you want a relationship at all with anyone, so too are some of those people trying to do the same thing.

For some people, their posturing around relationships is a way to pretend like they want what everyone else does or a way to act like they have the same set of experiences. It’s very rare for someone to sit down and be honest and vulnerable like you’re doing here, especially with peers and especially when those peers are other young men. So anyone with limited experience — which is most of the people you know when you’re younger — ends up assuming that everyone else knows more, has done more, understands more. And because it’s uncomfortable to feel like the only one who’s inexperienced or naïve, it’s easier to act like you know everything. It’s also easier to act like you want same things as everyone else, like a big intense huge love affair or a lot of no-strings-attached flings.

But you know what, Sag? Not everyone wants the same stuff. Not all women want a massive fairytale wedding, and not all men want to punch each other in the locker room as they joke about how many chicks they’re banging. Human experience and desire is so much more varied than that. Social norms and the way we talk about who we are and what we want have all changed a lot in recent years, but we are still a long way from really undoing many of the expectations and rules that have guided our behaviors for a long time. You know this better than many — you live in a place where you can’t even experiment and better understand your own sexuality because you fear legal repercussions.

This is my way of saying that you can’t use everyone else as a way to measure what you should want or how you should feel. I know that’s much easier said than done. I myself struggle every single day with this — I use my perceptions of what other people are doing, their successes, and where they are in their lives as a way to judge myself and highlight my own failures and shortcomings. But that’s a terrible way to live, partly because I have no idea if my interpretation of who or what they are is real. After all, maybe they’re putting on a brave front just like I am. More importantly, though, what they do and how they do it has absolutely nothing to do with how I live my own life and what I want or accomplish. Should I want children just because other people do? Should I feel bad that other people are married but I’m not? Should I feel like a failure for not having achieved particular markers of success? Nope!

Just because other people want to be in relationships — or at least act like they do — doesn’t mean you have to. Maybe you’re not someone who’s really geared toward romantic relationships. Maybe you don’t have the same kinds of sexual desires, or maybe you don’t have much (or any) sexual desire at all. Maybe you only very, very occasionally find yourself drawn to someone in a romantic or sexual way. Maybe you’re not ready. Maybe you haven’t met anyone who excites you. Maybe casual flings don’t appeal to you. Maybe you’re gay. Maybe casual flings would appeal to you if they were with men, and not women.

Desires and experiences ebb and flow over the course of our lives. This is another thing we don’t talk a lot about. Lots of people go through periods during which they don’t have any interest in sex or romance (or both). Sometimes they want to focus on work or on friendships or on themselves, or sometimes they just don’t… feel anything? Bodies and brains shift and change, and we all find ourselves faced with new experiences and possibilities from time to time that make us question whatever it was we thought we wanted or desired.

It’s absolutely possible to have fun (not just “fun”) and enjoy someone’s company (or have sex with them, or both) without having a serious relationship. It’s not for everyone, though. Plenty of people of all genders and sexual orientations don’t enjoy casual sex, or sex with someone they’re not emotionally invested in.

You are right that a lot of what you hear about this topic is dehumanizing and demeaning toward women. (This is a longer, separate conversation, but it’s one I hope you do make space for and a topic you learn about.) But I don’t think that all men only want relationships that demean women. The many social, cultural, and religious expectations and pressures around masculinity, femininity, marriage, and more make it very hard for people to talk about how they really feel and to pursue what they want. It’s very difficult for women. But it’s also difficult for men! Men are told things like “it’s not manly to talk about your feelings or to say you don’t like casual hookups and instead long for an epic romance.” Or things like “good women don’t love sex, so you can treat the ones who do badly.” We all hear things like this. There’s a lot we need to rewire in ourselves and in our cultural norms. So I commend you for writing this letter, because I think if more people — not just guys but all of us! — could be more open like you are here, we’d be a lot better off.

My advice to you is this: Don’t force yourself to get interested or invested in romantic relationships. Try very hard to not compare yourself to everyone else or to measure yourself by what they’re doing. They might not even be doing what they say they are, or they might not want to be doing it. Instead, keep doing things that interest you and pursuing the types of relationships that fulfill you — friends, community, volunteer work, spiritual practice, and so on. That’s going to make you feel much happier and more confident in who you are, and I think that will better allow you to understand yourself and what it is you want. Who knows, maybe along the way you’ll meet someone and find yourself with a new crush, one you want to pursue. Or maybe you’ll find that you simply are in fact aromantic or asexual. Any of this is okay. It’s more than okay! It’s who you are.

I’ll see you back here next week for one last column.

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Leah,

Not sure if this is still a good way to reach you, but I need some help.

Backstory: I’m a 10-year combat veteran with PTSD. I’ve lost a marriage, friends, and now my girlfriend of four years.

We’ve been on-again, off-again for the past two years. Every time it was her decision to break up, and every time I accepted her back. During a few of the breaks I started seeing other women because I wanted the attention. I broke them off immediately and tried to make things work with her.

The last time was another big break, and when we were together, I found some disturbing text messages to a cousin of hers stating, “I wish I was with his fine ass” (referring to a guy she spent time with between each of our breakups this year). Finding those messages made me feel really insecure, and I reached out to a girl who was completely into me, the one I left to make things work out with my ex again. Time had passed and I again was feeling lonely in the relationship, so I cheated on my girlfriend. Fast forward. The girl I cheated on her with told her everything. My girlfriend was devastated, disgusted, hurt, sad, and broken.

At first she found comfort in me, and we slept together twice after the breakup. I had a feeling of hope, that we could work things out. Then a switch flipped — she completely hated me and since then has wanted nothing to do with me.

I’ve tried reaching out to her, just to feel her out, but she keeps it short and cold. I don’t know what to do! I want her back, I helped her raise her daughter for the last four years, and I miss her just as much! It’s killing me. I deserve everything that’s coming to me, but I want to know if there’s something I can do to salvage my mistake and get her back in my life. Please help! Thank you!

What A Mess

Hey WHAM,

Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten a bunch of letters about cheating. Not that cheating is an unusual issue for an advice column, and I’ve gotten letters about them before, but it seemed like there were more of those sorts of letters coming in than normal, at least from people who had cheated rather than those who had been cheated on. Anyway, I bring this up because it reminds me how complicated humans are, and at the same time, how very simple.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about cheating over the years. I’ve talked to a lot of people about cheating — why they did it, why they do it, why they wanted to do it, why they forgave someone who cheated, why they didn’t. I’m going to paint with some very broad brush strokes here and say that people’s reasons for cheating tend to fall into roughly one or more of the following categories:

1. Humans make dumb choices, rather a lot;
2. Humans sometimes use a crutch or a wakeup call to get out of a situation, even though it would be better if they would figure things out without one;
3. Humans have a hard time being honest with themselves and with others, which is why they think that crutch is necessary, even though in retrospect they realize it would have been easier to do something different, like talk about what they need or simply leave;
4. Humans are often ruled by their dumb lizard brains because we are basically animals with credit cards and anxiety medication;
5. Humans are capable of extraordinary selfishness and less good at remembering how that selfishness will impact someone else; and
6. Humans like to think they’re the one who’ll get away with it.

I invite the writers of the other letters to think about which of these categories they fall into. You, WHAM, get to hear it from me: You’ve hit all of the categories. Bingo!

Now, I want you to know that I do not think cheating automatically means you’re a monster or someone who doesn’t deserve love. Lots — lots and lots, significantly more than you’d think — of people cheat. Many of their partners forgive them! Maybe they don’t sleep with someone else but they fool around, or they have an emotional affair, or they do whatever it is that violates the explicit boundaries of their primary relationship. People make terrible mistakes and choices. Sometimes they extend these mistakes into long-term decisions that cause enormous amounts of damage.

Let me be blunt: You and your ex should not be together, at least not right now. Maybe not ever. Something about the two of you doesn’t work, in part because you’re repeating the same pattern over and over, except an escalated version of it each time. I am absolutely sure you love her, and I’m sure that underneath her anger she loves you, or at least she did. But just because you love someone doesn’t mean you can or should be with them. Why am I so certain of this? Because if you two were supposed to be together, you would have worked it out by now and you wouldn’t be leaving a trail of destruction in your combined wake that includes not only you and her but also her daughter and all the other people you two are sleeping with.

Believe me honey, if you haven’t made a real go of it after two years of this up and down business, you’re not going to, not without a long break and a lot of work.

So now let me be as gentle as I possibly can: I think this was your crutch. Not in the “now I know how much I love her” way but in the “something is not working” way. You say you needed attention, but that’s a way of saying you weren’t happy. Except you didn’t tell your ex that you weren’t happy, that the messages made you insecure, and that the repeated breakups made you feel bad. You didn’t tell her you needed something more from her, and this time, it was you who might need to walk away. Instead, you cheated. Maybe it seemed easier or maybe you finally wanted to get back at her. Or maybe you aren’t sure you deserve the relationship you wished you could have, so you accepted the one she was willing to give. The two of you played a very bad game of her dumping you, each of you dating other people, and you welcoming her back, over and over. Neither of you felt secure in the relationship or like you were getting what you wanted, but neither of you got honest about what that would look like and what it would require from each of you.

The way you salvage your mistake is you leave your ex alone for a while. Like, at least a few months, maybe longer. You could send a note that says you want to give her space, but you’d like to make sure you are there for her daughter, and if that’s at all possible, to let you know. That might not be in the cards right now, which is a shame — not as much for you as it is for the little girl.

While you’re leaving your ex alone, take some time to work on yourself. I don’t know if you’re in therapy or if you do any sort of meditation or yoga or mindfulness work, but I get this sense that the up-and-down-ness of your relationship actually felt kind of… normal or okay to you. You’ve obviously been through an enormous amount over the past decade plus, and I am concerned there’s a part of you that’s mistaking this repeated rejection / renewal cycle as something you deserve or the best you can have. You’ve lost a lot over the past ten years — a marriage, friendships, a specific life you probably expected to live for a long time. I want to make sure you’re not repeatedly taking someone back because you’re afraid that’s the only way to keep from losing someone else, and similarly I want to make sure you’re not sabotaging a relationship because you feel like you don’t really deserve it.

The truth is that you did something wrong, and you do need to take responsibility for it. But use this chance to think about what you really deserve more broadly. Two things are true: You made a mistake and right now, and you’re suffering for it; but you also are allowed to want a stable, good relationship that doesn’t require you to take someone back over and over. Just because some people have left doesn’t mean everyone will. Maybe contending with your mistake will allow you to contend with what you’ve lost over these years and what it is you’d really like to find.

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Hi Leah,

I guess you get a lot of questions around New Year but I’ll try my luck anyway. I’m 26, living in Europe, and my problem is, to put it short: I don’t know whether I’m just overly sensitive / melancholic or have some sort of a mood disorder.

I’m pretty sure I’m not clinically depressed or something because I function fairly well in my daily life. Most of my friends would probably even describe me as happy (which I often am!) and funny. I’m quite proud of my ability to make other people laugh. Still, I experience recurrent periods of intense self-hate, loneliness and anxiety. I also don’t think I can find a life partner because of my dark thoughts and generally being too complicated. I do not want to be a burden to someone.

I think I might have been properly depressed when I was 13 years old, but I didn’t receive treatment then. Fortunately I got better the older I became, but still I was quite an unhappy teenager. I often cried on my own but most of the time didn’t tell my family. When I started university, I talked to a university counselor a few times, but I guess I didn’t appear a very serious case. Frankly, most of the time, I felt quite well at the time of the appointments so I even questioned the purpose of it myself. However, those feelings kept coming back the last years.

The thing is: I don’t know if what I’m experiencing is “normal,” because those feelings have been around such a long time. I guess lots of people get anxious about a lot of things or don’t like themselves. Also my problems were never visible, I never self-harmed or stopped eating, it was / is mainly in my head. In fact, my biggest fear was / is not appearing normal. So I never told anybody about my visits at the counseling service. I would probably benefit from therapy but it is not something a lot of people do in my country. It is very stigmatized and only people with a severe condition go to therapy. So I somehow suffer from my thoughts but also feel like I don’t “deserve” therapy. I already waited for it to get better by aging (it didn’t quite) or talking to friends (it helped a bit but I don’t want to be too negative).

Thank you so much for your advice!

Best,
G.

Hey G,

Sometimes I think about the concept of “normal.” What it is, why it matters, who gets to define it. Lately I think about it a lot more than I ever have, for so many reasons.

In order for something to be “normal” it needs to conform to some kind of standard, right? We say it’s normal because it’s what we expect, what we’re used to, whatever is typical or average. When you say you want to know if what you experience is normal, my guess is you want to know two separate but related things. First, if it’s normal compared to a measurable, scientific standard — on average do most people feel this way, am I an outlier, am I close to the norm but still a bit outside it, etc. Second, if it’s normal in the social sense — am I a total weirdo, is there something wrong with me, is something about me socially unacceptable, other people are probably like this but what if they’re not, and so on.

I’m not going to answer your question from a statistical or medical perspective, but I feel like that’s not what you were looking for anyway. I will say that, estimated guess-wise, there are a lot of people who feel anxious or depressed or both, and who feel very negatively about themselves. There are also people who don’t suffer from most or any of these problems, or if they do they experience them at a much lower intensity. Their brain and gut chemistries may be different, as well as the way they were raised, the interactions they had with their peers as children and teens, and the environments, societies, and contexts in which they grew up and developed into adults.

A lot of factors affect who and how we are! Including, as you have learned, the place we live and how our society views mental health. When I was in Copenhagen last year, a young woman told me she was in treatment for anxiety, which was very unusual for a Dane — they may suffer from depression, in part thanks to dark winters, but not anxiety. And you know what? I could feel it when I was there! Even I felt significantly less anxious, maybe because I was thousands of miles from my actual life but maybe because being in a place with different and much less intense environmental, ambient anxieties allowed me to chill the eff out for a minute.

Anyway, some people just seem to have an easier time of it, and not because they’re hiding their depression or pretending to be happy — although that happens, too. I’m talking about people who don’t dwell on negative experiences or dumb things they said, who don’t seem to get anxious over every little thing, and who seem to be relatively comfortable with and confident in themselves. These are the people I always think of as “normal,” and maybe you do too. I’ve envied these people for most of my life. Sometimes I would like to be so much… easier, not just for others to deal with but for myself.

But you know what? I don’t know if they are as typical as I like think they are. In fact, I get the sense that most people have some hangup or another. If they’re not a little anxious, they get a little depressed. If they’re not a little obsessive-compulsive, they’re a little socially awkward. And so on.

My point is that the kind of normal you’re asking about is a combination of “the average human experience” and “socially expected behaviors and norms.” No one wants to be called average, but based on your letter, I don’t think you are wildly outside the range of normal human experience. A lot of us have melancholy streaks. We’re lonely and very sensitive, probably more sensitive than everyone else who seem so… normal. In fact, based on the letters I get from people around the world, and the responses of people who read this column, you sound to me like you are squarely in the normal range of human experience.

That doesn’t mean you are totally fine, that it’s “all in your head,” or you don’t need help and someone to talk to. “All in your head” is another way of saying you’re imagining things or making them up. Your loneliness, anxiety, and self-hate are real, even if no one else can see them. And just because these problems aren’t disrupting your life doesn’t mean you don’t need to talk about them with someone other than your friends, someone you can be truthfully negative to. Anyway, your problems are disrupting your life — they’re making you think you’ll never find someone because you’ll be a burden. That’s a terrible way to feel, and it’s made worse by the fact that you don’t know whether other people have problems, too, or whether they’d be able to make space in their lives for someone who isn’t totally “normal.”

But how do you deal with this without feeling like everyone’s going to judge or ostracize you? You live in a country that is, I hate to say it, not atypical. The social norm deems therapy as something you only need if you have “real” problems, like a serious mental illness. Wow is that bad for everyone! It means either you’re “crazy” or you’re “normal.” And we all know what it means to be thought of as crazy, right? But it’s also bad for the so-called normals, too. When mental health concerns, no matter how big or small, are considered to be outside the norm, people feel hesitant to ask for help, even if they really need it. And if they do ask for help, like you did, they won’t know entirely how to ask or what to ask for because their spectrum of existence has two points: quote-unquote-normal and totally fucked up.

Luckily, we’ve established that you are normal to feel what you feel. And in case it’s not clear, I want to also emphasize that the social idea of normal, the one that makes you think you don’t deserve help and should feel like everyone else does, is faulty and bad. This is the kind of normal that comes with judgment and moral positioning. It’s the kind of normal that doesn’t take into account a wide range of experiences and behaviors, because it’s based on class, culture, religion, tradition. The idea that “normal” people don’t need help causes unnecessary suffering. People end up believing depression is all in their minds (figuratively and literally), and they should be able to resolve their problems without help since only people with “real” issues need therapy.  

Of course I want to encourage you to do things like volunteer and meditate. It’s good to get outside your own head sometimes by helping others, and it’s also good to get inside your own head and learn to let go a little. But I want you to consider trying to find a therapist or counselor again. I realize this puts you in a tough position. Being someone who acts in defiance of social norms is not easy. The stigma you mention is real. It takes courage and strength to do something that flies in the face of what everyone thinks is normal, even if what you do isn’t a big public act of resistance. I think it will help you to sort through how you feel and not downplay it. The darkness you describe does not have to be constant to be troubling.

Maybe over time you’ll begin to feel comfortable talking to your friends more openly, or maybe as they see you go to therapy they’ll ask you questions about it, questions that reveal they’ve been struggling with some darkness themselves. Sometimes it takes a brave person to say, “Just because all these people act like this is okay doesn’t mean it is.” That person opens the door for others to start questioning and redefining what society says is normal. It might be tough, and you might encounter some resistance — especially from yourself, when you wonder if you deserve to get help. You do! You deserve to feel better. All of us do.

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Hey Leah,

I’m a 25-year-old male and I don’t really know what to do about my girlfriend (22). I have been in a relationship with her for five months now. Getting to know her was lovely and exciting. I knew quite early (after two months) that I wanted to be with her. She happily let me know she wanted the same. What made us friends were our interests in sports, philanthropy, the endearing way we communicated, memes (so millennial) and just being there for each other despite and when things went south. What made me love her was her passionate and caring side, and the way she treated family.

Despite our different backgrounds, things were going great. We are both students, so we try to fit each other in our busy schedule whilst not neglecting school and work. We communicated every day, go on weekly dates, and we even had two small vacations together. Things were splendid… until the last few weeks. I know that things change after the “honeymoon phase,” but this felt more like a steep decline. She cancels on dates, started being rude and declines to see me (“busy”), even when I’m willing to drive to her place. She started not being really active in conversations and not really responsive in any way of communication I’ve tried over the last few weeks. I could handle my girlfriend not having the best day, but this has been going on for almost a month. We did not even see each other during the holidays. I started thinking about the things I may have done wrong.

After a few days of not really talking, we met and I asked her about the way she has been acting. She said that “it wasn’t me,” but she’s dealing with anxiety about her future. School, work, and health issues are the headlines of her stress. She is also thinking about job opportunities abroad. I partly knew about the issues she was facing, but I didn’t know it impacted her that much. She said that she had to focus on her main issues. She was sorry about the way it made me feel and that she will be more considerate, but I don’t see any significant changes. I try to be there for her, because I really love her. Every time I try to text her, it feels like I’m bothering her. And if I keep a little distance she sends a one-off text to ask me how I’m doing. I would love to be the person she counts on while she’s having issues, but she keeps shutting me out and it is having an effect on our relationship. I keep wondering if she still cares, and the things that made me love her seems quite far off now.

I tried asking her out, help her with school, and show her things she’s interested in. She had a lackluster response. Meeting with her seems like a big task. I still want this to work because we had a great time, but she’s taking my efforts for granted. I’m like: “what should I do while you’re trying to figure things out, and where do I fit in?”

I don’t want to be the guy that complains every time, but this is really bothering me. If it continues like this, I’ll have to end it, but I really don’t want to. What more can I try to save our relationship?

Sincerely,
S

Hey S,

She’s right, it’s not you. It’s her. And since it’s her, she should be able to be honest about what’s going on, so it’s too bad she’s not doing that.

Now, I know how this must sound: Like I’m a mind reader and I know exactly what’s going on with your girlfriend. I’m not! And I don’t. When I say “what’s going on” I mean in the context of your relationship, because your girlfriend is doing something I am very familiar with. I’ve been on both sides of your current situation, and I’ve watched friends behave like she’s behaving and feel like you’re feeling. Your girlfriend is pretending to be someone who wants to be in the relationship while acting like someone who doesn’t want to be in the relationship at all.

I’m sorry if that isn’t what you wanted to hear. And while I think it’s unfair of her to do that — just like it’s unfair when anyone else does it, including me — I don’t think she’s a total jerk. It’s hard to break up with someone, especially someone who is decent and kind and seems like a real catch. Maybe she’s afraid to hurt your feelings, or maybe she’s so overwhelmed by everything going on in her life she doesn’t know what she wants right now. I don’t think this has anything to do with your differences in background. You say she’s got a lot going on that’s affecting her more than you realized, and she’s kind of disappearing into herself to deal with all of it. So maybe that’s it. Or maybe she’s using that as an excuse. Or maybe she thinks dumping you will hurt you, not realizing that it hurts more to be pushed away like this. I have no idea.

All I know is that your girlfriend isn’t being a very good girlfriend to you, and she’s not doing the fair thing and making things clear either by showing up or by ending things. Again, it sucks, but we’ve all done it. That’s partly why I wanted to answer your letter, because this situation is so universal. I hope that doesn’t make you feel like I’m diminishing what you’re feeling. When I feel bad, there are few things I dislike as much as someone saying “everyone feels bad when this happens!” or “we’ve all gone through this!” My response is always, “Yes, I know that, but right now I’m talking about me.” So I want to acknowledge how crappy this must feel, to be so excited about someone who seemed equally excited in you… only to have them back away almost overnight. And how extra crappy it is to feel as if you’ve been pushed into breaking up with someone you want to be with!

You know, since I already brought up (and apologized for) universal themes, let me say something else I love about your letter: I love that it was written by a guy, about a woman. Why? Because of the stereotype that only women feel like they’re being needy, wanting more from someone they love. And the stereotype that only women sit around thinking about their relationships in detail, wondering what’s going on and what they’ve done wrong and whether they’re asking for too much or being too annoyed and wanting to be a support for someone who seems only to push them away. Sure, a lot of women do and a lot of men don’t. Yes, women are socialized to fit into the spaces made available for them, rather than take up all the space they want. The sense that they’re asking for too much is often based on very different power dynamics and social expectations. But men do feel this way, too. Frankly, people of all genders and sexualities feel the way you do and behave the way she’s behaving. It’s part of being human, no matter how you’re conditioned: Sometimes you fall for someone who can’t return the favor, and sometimes you’re the person who realizes they don’t want to be in a particular relationship but doesn’t do anything about it.

Okay! Back to you, S.

Your situation probably feels tricky because this relationship is so new and so recently full of promise. How could she change so fast when she seemed to be so excited to be with you? Friend, I have been there. And since I’ve been there, I know this will be hard to believe right now, but I’ll say it anyway: After five months, you shouldn’t be where you are right now. You’re trying to salvage potential, and that’s an impossible task. If you can, look beyond the potential and focus instead on the very real situation you find yourself in. You’re dating someone who isn’t showing up AT ALL.

Here’s a secret that I wish were much less of a secret: Relationships are not based around one person’s needs. It’s okay for her to focus on her main issues. It’s okay for her to need to take care of herself and not have space for another person right now. It’s also okay for you to need more than she’s able to give. You’re not being the guy who complains every time: You’re being the guy who’s fitting himself into the small spaces she’s providing for you, and then getting reasonably upset when you realize how cramped and uncomfortable those spaces are. Stop that! You are already a person who’s aware of what he wants and needs in a relationship, and you know you’re not getting that right now.

It must feel like your girlfriend has all the power here: She’s the one who’s backing away, and you’re the one who’s feeling needy and demanding. I’ve written about this before. It’s such a frustrating dynamic! I want to reiterate it because I want you to be okay with how you feel. Why? Because I can see you building a case in your letter, a case for how you’re doing all these things, and did you do something wrong, and is she ever going to show up?? I’ve built that case before. It never turns out well, because it actually makes you feel even more fed up and when she hears it she’ll feel more defensive.

Focusing on the idea that “hey, I want this thing, and I’m not getting it” probably seems very selfish, rather than focusing on the list of things you’ve tried and the list of things you’re willing to try. Especially when she’s dealing with so much in her life. But it’s not selfish to be a person who says, “I am not getting this important thing I need from our relationship. I know you may not be in a place to give it to me, so please be honest about whether you can or want to so I can figure out whether being in this relationship is healthy for me.” Neither of you have the right to demand the other person behave how you want them to, but both you have the right to acknowledge what you need. Listen to what she has to say, and listen to how it makes you feel. If your gut tells you that she won’t follow through again, listen to that. Don’t eye your list and say “Well, maybe if I try one more thing…” It’s not up to you to save the relationship or fix it. It’s up to both of you! And you can only honor that if you’re honest with yourself and with her about what you need too.

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Hey Leah,

What’s the best way to handle fear?

B

Hey B,

There is no “best” way to handle fear. I mean, maybe there’s a best way for you, or a best way for me, but there’s no single across-the-board best way. That’s not always what people want to hear, but being human isn’t a simple, straightforward process. It’s also not a competition or a series of optimization exercises, so I don’t want anyone thinking if they aren’t good at the “best” way to handle fear they’re somehow failing.

But obviously there are better ways to handle fear.

Fear is an innate feeling, one of the most fundamental feelings we’re born with. It is natural, almost everyone has it; it’s a very human thing. More than that! It’s a very animal thing. Fear is partly emotional, partly physical, and it’s a response that helps us survive. This is why I don’t like it when someone says “Don’t be afraid!” in response to someone else’s fear. I know the intention is good — it’s a way of saying “this thing isn’t actually bad or scary, you’re okay” — but it’s a little like saying “don’t be sleepy!” and “don’t be angry!” So the first part of dealing with fear is to remind yourself that being afraid is totally okay and normal.

It’s also necessary to remember that fears come in a wide range of flavors. Fears exist along a sort of spectrum, with “rational” at one end and “irrational” at the other. Technically, fears fall into one bucket or another, but to me (admittedly a sociologist and not a psychologist), it can seem a little more complicated than that when you’re thinking through your fears. Rational fears are of the  “I am afraid because I am in danger and something or someone threatens my well-being” variety, like living in an active war zone or with an abuser, or being approached in the dark by someone you immediately know is going to hurt you. Irrational fears, also known as phobias, are of the “I am afraid of a situation or a thing that is not present or is intangible” variety, like fear of public speaking or spiders, of death or of the unknown. To call them irrational is not to say they aren’t real but to acknowledge the “rationality” of an intense emotional and physiological fight-or-flight response to something that does not currently pose a danger or isn’t even dangerous at all.

My guess is you want to focus on the more irrational side of fear, which is what I want to do, too. This is “how to be human” not “how to react when someone is threatening you with bodily harm.” So when I say “fear” from now on, I’m talking about that whole side of the spectrum, the one without a clear and present danger.

As humans, we gather all manner of fears throughout our lives. Sometimes we learn to be afraid of something, because we’re taught or conditioned to fear them, or because we experience something very traumatic. We’re also influenced by culture, society, religion, and so on. You can see how fears shift and change over time. For example, the fear of disease and germs meant most people in medieval Europe rarely bathed — the idea was that dirt in your pores helped you block disease — whereas the modern fear of disease and germs is so anti-dirt there’s a massive industry dedicated to anti-bacterial cleaning products. As it turns out, some dirt is good but so is some hygiene, but you try telling that to our entire clean = good culture at this moment in history.

At the heart of a lot of our irrational fears are stories. And I mean that very literally: they are stories in the deepest sense of the word, narratives we tell ourselves over and over again about a thing that happened and what it means, why we avoid a situation or a type of person, why we are the way we are and there’s no changing it. A lot of these stories are like a pair of sweatpants I’ve had for, I don’t know, about 15 years. To call them sweatpants is generous, since right now they’re a waistband barely attached to a pair of conjoined fabric legs. Why haven’t I thrown them away, you ask? It’s not because they’ve got sentimental value. I’ve bought new sweatpants in recent years, ones I like a lot better. The truth is I keep them out of habit, because they’re there and they’ve seemingly always been there and why question it?

A lot of my fears feel like these sweatpants. I’ll march right over to the dresser, pull them out, and throw them on, not for a second stopping to ask “hey, why am I still wearing these terrible things? What if I just threw them away, right now?” Those are the two key questions at the heart of my approach to fear: why and what if.

Here is a tiny little example, one that not surprisingly involves yoga. When I was 15, I got a pair of rollerblades (feel free to laugh, it was 1990 and I was probably also wearing striped Girbaud shorts that looked like this). I used them exactly once because within a few minutes of gliding gracefully down my street, I fell really hard and partially dislocated my shoulder (it’s okay, you can still laugh, this is a ridiculous way to hurt yourself). My shoulder has never been the same since. It’s popped out many times, and I’ll spare you the stories of one time when I had to pop it back in myself.

Now, you’re probably thinking this caused me to develop a fear of rollerblades, which is a delightful phobia to consider. But no! Many years later, I became afraid of inversions and arm balances in yoga. Sure, my fear is partly rational, because I could pop my shoulder out again and have to deal with yet another strengthening and healing process. Except the kind of yoga I do has made me stronger than I’ve ever been and has showed me that most poses require you to be strong not just in your arms and legs but in your core. Like, in your abs but also in the center of yourself! And I started to recognize that my fear wasn’t just about my shoulder. It was about not being strong enough, about falling down, about doing it wrong, about how you even get into that pose and I would never be able to do it. About failing. But addressing all of those things was so much worse than saying “My shoulder might come out! I can’t do this.” I never asked why I was afraid, I just kept saying “I can’t do this” in response to the thing that scared me. So my fears had hardened into a thing. An obstacle.

One day my teacher told us to go to the wall and do an inversion, a forearm balance, and my brain immediately went “well, I can’t do that.” Like, my brain pulled on its shitty torn-up sweatpants, the ones that say you’re afraid right on the butt. In that moment I stopped and asked myself, “Why not? Why am I afraid? What if I can do it?” I remember it very distinctly, because I could feel a physical shift in my body when I said “I dunno, maybe I can do it.” Did I succeed right away? No, but I did eventually, and now I can do a variety of forearm balances at the wall. After a while I even started practicing handstand on my own — I still can’t kick up all the way without an assist, but I try. I’m still a little afraid of it, so I keep saying why and what if. Sometimes I say “what if instead of the scariest thing you treat it as the most fun thing?” It might sound corny but the other day I did the first part of an arm balance called astavakrasana (this is what the full pose looks like, but I’m not there yet) and when it happened I involuntarily shouted out “Oh shit!” in class out of sheer surprise and delight.

I don’t think every fear is one that will be resolved with a joyful “Oh shit!” I have a lot of fears that make me so sad and angry, especially when I think about how long I’ve had them and how many things they’ve kept me from doing in my life. Many of those fears do not have fun upside down resolutions. But I can still ask why and what if. I can still throw those horrid sweatpants away, one pair at a time.

Many years ago my dad said something that I’ve always treasured. He said that talking about the thing that scares you the most helps it becomes less terrifying. It’s no longer something you can’t voice or name, no longer something you have to deal with alone. Fear loves to be a secret. It loves to hide and be a disembodied voice that rises up from the darkest corners, telling you the same story over and over.

One more thing: fear is not yours alone. Learning to more effectively handle fear requires being able to acknowledge other people’s fears, too. I’m not telling you to say “well, this person’s about to punch me, I bet it’s because they’re scared of something too.” This is not about having compassion for an abuser or oppressor. Some people definitely choose fight over flight in response to fear. But we’re all afraid and vulnerable, sometimes rationally and sometimes not. We’ve learned many fears over the course of our lives. We all act out of fear in ways that can be very harmful to ourselves and others, but a better way is to ask why and what if before we act. Imagine if people were able to do more of that together. Imagine what would change.

Happy New Year.

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Hi Leah,

I know that you’re the one that usually writes the long answers, but hear me out.

I was raised in an Islamic country that is not fond of relationships before marriage. (Islam prohibits and totally forbids the acts of sex before marriage and drinking alcohol and getting high). The country that I’ve been raised in hasn’t been very religious, as there are many people my age in relationships, but I’ve never been in a relationship myself. I’ve also been raised by my parents that I should not smoke or drink, so I’m basically straight edge at the moment.

I would like to think that I’m special. That I am different. The society I live in is very malleable right now. But I wasn’t in the loop so I missed a lot of stuff. I am basically a naive 16-year-old teenager.

A few years ago, a new girl came to my school. I’ve never been able to make friends outside of school so all my groups have been from school or friends of school friends. When this girl first came, I felt an instant connection. Although I did not contact her or speak to her, I just felt the connection. A year later, the school organized a camp. We bonded on the trip and we talked about deep subjects. She was depressed and was self-harming and smoking to relieve the pain. She always said that she was hanging out with the wrong group who introduced her to all these things. I kept her spirit up and eventually helped her out of her depression. We became best friends who can talk about any topic. We used to spend nights in chat windows talking about everything.

A year passed. I grew to like her as more than a friend. She was funny and energetic and fun. It grew difficult to talk to her face to face, but behind the chat window, it was great. I tried to tell her that I liked her, gave her hints, but ultimately I failed to say it.

One day, another friend of mine asked me if there’s anything going on between us. I hesitantly told him no. He then proceeded to tell me that when she came to school, he learned that she had a crush on me. My mind suddenly kept racing with questions like: Does she like me now? What do I tell her? Is it finally the moment I tell her that I like her? I simply did not know. I asked her later if she had a crush on me in one of the chats, as if I didn’t know. She said yes and that she liked me and found me funny. I told her that I felt the same way. But then we didn’t know what to do, she said that it’s funny / weird at the same time and we agreed to stay friends. (I still had feelings for her but didn’t know how to react since I’ve never been into a relationship.) Since then, our friendship has been kinda mixed up for me. We were both deep friends but also liked to flirt as jokes (or not), and I was weirdly accepting of it, so I tried to bury my feeling for her.

On New Year’s Eve 2016, we spent the night until 6AM talking about anything and everything. Eventually we started talking about… sex. Sex was the ultimate fantasy that I’ve dreamt of every waking moment since I hit puberty. I was regularly watching porn and it kept that urge probably (not) contained. She told me that she knows a friend who thinks she is bisexual. She said that her friend was experienced in relationships and has done sexual acts before. I tried to ask what kind of acts, and she said mostly non-penetration stuff like oral, dry humping, grinding, and groping. From the way she was defending this girl, I thought maybe she was talking about herself, but I was in denial. Later in the conversation she admitted to being that very friend and that she was alI what she said her “friend” was. I went full panic attack! I knew she smoked and drank, which was probably okay for me and I’m okay with it, but her being sexual was new to innocent little me who didn’t come close to any of that stuff. “She’s been with other people! She had done X, Y, and Z! Holy shit!” I couldn’t believe it! I had to have some time to deal with it which I eventually did (not really… I don’t know).

We often had these hiccups where we didn’t talk because of some unwanted drama. I often felt jealous of her, like she belonged to me (which makes it sound like she’s an object, but I felt protective). When she went out with other people, I used to wish I’d be the only one with her.

Fast forward another few months in 2016. We had another trip and whenever I saw her I was in awe. I decided that I should tell her that I deeply like her. I went to her tell her that I really like her and just wanted to get it out of my chest (again). She didn’t react. I froze and was heartbroken. She didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to say.

After that, I lied to her and told her that it was just a phase and that we can return to being friends again. We didn’t talk for weeks and weeks after what happened just in time for the new school year. We agreed that we wanted to become friends again and become close again. We took baby steps until we got there.

When we were still doing baby steps, we met up to genuinely talk like we used to. We sat on a beach and kept talking about everything as always. She told me that she sometimes felt jealous of me in the same way I described above. After this point, we went out as usual. We talked about stuff but it wasn’t an official “date.” The line between being friends and being more is blurred. She says that nobody knows that much stuff about her and she considers me a really close friend. I do not know what to do. What does she think of me? How should I react now? Should I try and tell her for the third time now or will it be more complicated and would ruin things even more?

Sincerely,
Confused.

Hey Confused,

One of the best parts about writing this column is that I’m reminded on a weekly basis how much people have in common, regardless of who they are or where they live — and regardless of what so many people would like to believe. This isn’t to say you’re not special or different. It’s just that your letter could have been written by almost anyone who’s ever written to me. That you were raised in an Islamic country (and I assume are Muslim) is helpful to know, but most of what you describe could easily have taken place in countless high schools around the world. It might sound silly, but I’m more grateful than usual for this reminder, and for how almost universal your letter is. To be a teenager is to be a teenager, and to be a human is to be a human.

I know you think you’re naive and innocent, and that everyone else is somehow “in the know.” So I’m going to let you in on a little secret: You’re not and they’re not. You are absolutely, 100 percent a normal 16-year-old dude. Sure, there are other 16-year-old guys out there who have had sex. Girls, too. But there are tons of people your age — and truthfully, plenty of people in their twenties, thirties, and beyond — who don’t have much experience with relationships and sex. Or even any experience at all. And honestly, having sex doesn’t necessarily make you any more clued in.

Why do I think this is important to point out? Because all of us, every last human being, look at other people and assume things about them. We assume based on all sorts of things, which can include experience, or prejudice and bias, or our own insecurities and fears. Many of these things are based in how we were raised, in cultural expectations, in our families, communities, religions, and so forth. Sex, as you know well, is a central issue in religion and religious societies. It’s even an issue in societies that are more socially permissive — you tell me your country isn’t very religious right now but rather seems socially malleable, with many young, unmarried people in relationships. But religion and tradition still informs aspects of life there, and attitudes about sex are still complicated by norms and mores.

This is true in the United States, too, and in countless other places. I think this is at the heart of what’s going on with you and your friend. You, like so many guys I’ve known and heard from, are feeling a lot of conflicting emotions. You like this girl so much! She might like you? Who knows! But also you’re thinking about sex every waking moment. Your brain is flooded with hormones, so that’s making it tougher to think straight. Again, this is totally normal, not only because you’re a teenager, but because you’re human. Believe me, hormones are no joke!

But sex isn’t just about hormones. It’s also about emotions, expectations, preconceived notions, lessons you maybe don’t realize you’ve learned. When I read through all the pieces of your letter, I think about the ways in which a variety of messages about sex, love, and relationships embed themselves in the brain. Specifically the adolescent brain, which is even more malleable than your society! You, like many teenagers in your country and like many teenagers I’ve known, are swimming in messages from parents, religious leaders, teachers, politicians, friends, athletes, actors and porn stars. We’re bombarded by ideas, often conflicting ones, and we’re ruled as much by social expectations as we are our own desires. It’s why people feel shame — shame because they’re still virgins, shame because they aren’t, shame because they want to have sex with the “wrong” type of person, shame because they enjoy sex too much, shame because they don’t enjoy it at all. Sex is a natural function of the human body, and desire is a natural emotion. Humans love to try and control nature, but controlling anything is a good way to break and sometimes even destroy it.

Anyway! This is why I’m focusing on sex, even though I know you have a lot of deep, very real non-sexual feelings for your friend. Your parents raised you to not drink or smoke, yet your friend doing those things didn’t seem to bother you much. But sex! You’re still kind of freaked out about your friend and her sexual experience. And not in a “oh man, I’m out of the loop” way. In the “I think she’s defending herself” way. In the “she’s been with other people” way.

One of the toughest parts about being a human is breaking out of seeing things from your own perspective. Your perspective is a very reasonable one, and it’s the only one you’ve known your whole life. But just as I want you to remember that lots of people you think are experienced or in-the-know probably aren’t (or at least not as much as you think they are), I want you to try and remember how your friend feels.

There is, unfortunately, a big difference in attitude around sexually active men and sexually active women. Not just in Islamic societies but in plenty of others too. It’s true here, and the judgment comes from secular corners as well as from religious ones. Your friend was probably scared to tell you all those things because she’s a teenager, which as you know is a world fraught with hormonal landmines and intense emotional weather and a lot of mean behavior at the hands of other teenagers (and adults too). But more than that, she was (is) scared as a teenage girl. Being sexually active and adventurous have different implications for women, like being labeled a slut, or being viewed as “used goods.” You can sense that, can’t you? You know she was defending herself, and you know you feel a little weird about her being experienced, in a way you wouldn’t if it were a guy friend telling you. I mean, yes you’re “innocent,” but you watch porn. It’s not the sex itself, it’s that a girl you really like and wish were yours is having sex.

(I know she’s not having penetrative vaginal sex, but see, that’s another way in which tradition dictates our ideas about sex and sexuality. There has long been value in a woman’s innocence and virginity, so that’s what we use to define OFFICIAL-DOING-IT-SEX. It’s very difficult to let those ideas go!)

She’s had problems with depression and self harming (I hope she’s doing better), and she’s sexually active but seems ashamed of it. I remember being a teenager and exploring like your friend but feeling so many conflicting emotions. I liked it but also thought fooling around would get guys to like me and be my boyfriend. But that didn’t work. So I wonder too if she is afraid you are judging her, because you don’t want her to be experienced. And if somehow you’ll only want to date her because she’s “wild.” If dating you means that it’ll end up being only about “SEX: THE ULTIMATE FANTASY” and she’ll lose her friend.

I wish I could talk to her, too, but I can only talk to you, her friend, the guy who truly cares about her. One thing I think is special about you is that you’re a little bit aware of how you’re feeling. You know you’re still weirded out by what she told you. You know you want her all to yourself, and there’s a little part that probably wishes you could have all of her to yourself, including the experiences she’s already had with others. You know you feel like your lack of experience with relationships somehow puts you at a disadvantage, like you’re not on even ground. All of this shines through to me in your letter.

So my advice to you, Confused, is to be honest with yourself about those feelings. Try and relax a little about her experiences. Be incredibly gentle about the things you know about her that no one else does. She really trusts you, and that vulnerability is scary. Let her know your friendship is a real, solid, safe place. Find a way to be honest with her too, maybe by telling her that you want to not be weird about stuff she tells you, because you like her so much and have these jealousies she can probably sense. Don’t lie to her! If you can’t be her friend because you like her too much, be real about that. Respect her trust and honesty by being honest and vulnerable too.

I bet this sounds like an awful lot for a 16-year-old, but you know what? You can handle it! I totally believe you can. Love and sex and relationships are often complicated by feelings and repercussions, so it’s important to be able to handle them in a kind, careful way. Maybe the two of you will always be just friends. Maybe you’ll experience a new kind of innocence, the goofy blissful exploratory fooling around with someone you like. Maybe the two of you will drift apart. But maybe too you won’t always be so worried about your experience or whether someone you like has a higher “number” than you do. People don’t magically appear in our lives as freshly-hatched adults with no prior human contact. You like this girl because of who she is, and her experiences helped make her that person.

It seems like she’s always liked you, but both of you are navigating your own lack of experience. You agreed to be friends when you both admitted to liking one another, and maybe you both felt rejected. People handle rejection differently. You buried your feelings, she possibly acted out on hers. You’re both inexperienced in many things, so you’re both going to fumble through communicating and learning together, whether as friends or more.

The main difference between the time you spend with her now and a real “date” is there would be fooling around. Maybe she can sense that pressure and doesn’t want this friendship to be like others she’s described as “wrong” and full of bad influences. Or maybe she froze last time you told her because she was scared of another round of “well, neither of us know what to do.” I know it feels incredibly urgent to tell her your feelings again right now, but give it a little bit of time. You’ve just gotten back to being close. She trusts you enough that I think she’ll tell you when she’s ready to talk about those feelings again. And if you find it too hard to just be her friend without exploring the possibility of something more, you need to trust her enough to tell her, too.

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Hi Leah,

I’m a 21-year-old gay male who lives in the Pacific Northwest. I’m out to those close to me, but I’m in the closet publicly for now. I feel it’s a personal thing, my sexuality, so I only tell it to those I care about. Plus, I live in a super-conservative county, and after the election, trust me when I say it’s better I stay in the closet for the time being. The kind of hate I’m seeing lately towards minorities is scary as hell.

Being gay, and living where I do, I’ve never… well, had a romantic relationship and obviously, I’ve never gone the distance with anyone either. (I’ll freely admit, that’s a tough thing for me to say, especially when we live in a society where sex is held in such high regard, and those who don’t have it are either unattractive or have ‘other’ issues.) I didn’t fake it in High School and pretend to be straight by having a girlfriend or anything like that. I just managed to avoid the question, and since I identify strongly on the masculine side of the spectrum, most people haven’t a clue.

So without any romantic background, I’ve found I develop crushes fairly easily on guys I’m around, especially those who are attractive both in personality and looks. Nothing’s ever come of these though, as I’ve never had the courage to act on them since I’ve never been able to tell if the guys are actually gay or not. Let’s just say that when it comes to flirting, relationships, and sex, I’m hopelessly lost and inexperienced.

So, about a year ago at work, a new employee was hired. He’s older than me by about nine years, but he’s still incredibly young and extremely, extremely attractive. He’s a jock who’s very fit, tall and handsome. But he’s also extremely kind and our personalities kinda clicked.

At first before I really got to know him, I developed the usual crush on him. And as we became friends, and as I got to know him more, that crush went away and something far more powerful replaced it. I began to fall in love with him. I’m confident it’s love because well, when I’m around him, talking to him, I feel good — extremely good, like I’m worth a million bucks kinda good. He makes me smile and happy; he makes me laugh. I feel whole around him. And whenever I think of him, I get such strong emotions that I sometimes feel physically sick. As I said, I’ve had several dozen crushes over the years. None have ever come close to the feelings I have for my coworker. In a perfect world, I honestly think he’s the one. Our chemistry seems almost too perfect. I would do anything for him. Take a bullet for him, no questions asked. This gets to the root of my problem. In a perfect world, my coworker would be gay and single.

Sadly, this isn’t a perfect world, and my coworker is straight, and very recently married.

Yay me. Falling for someone I could never, ever hope to ever be with. I’m certainly not in denial about it, but here’s the thing, I don’t know how to un-fall in love with him. I’ve tried distancing myself from him at work and ignoring him, but that doesn’t work. And while I can never be there for him the way I’d like, I do not want to lose him as a friend. He’s literally the only out-of-closest friend I have and losing him would only make the pain of our situation unbearable.

Some things you should know. I have told him I’m gay (he was very supportive and thanked me for my trust in him), and I’ve very recently told him about my feelings towards him. I wasn’t completely honest to the extent that those feelings go, but he got the message.

The part that kills me, is his response to my admittance was along the lines of “I’m really sorry” and “I’ll be there for you if you want, whatever you need,” or “if you need some time or distance to work this out that’s cool…”

What I didn’t get and what I was hoping for was downright rejection. He never told me that he didn’t feel the same. He never said explicitly that he wasn’t open to us being something more.

Maybe he felt it was implied, with his marriage and all but honestly, my mind is grasping at whatever hope remains. Sad, I know, but I don’t know how to get past this. All I do know is he’s a great guy, and he deserves someone better than me. It’s not fair to him that I’m like this. It’s not right, and I feel pretty ashamed about it actually.

Lastly, I’m someone who’s struggled with being alone for a long time. I would often spend sleepless nights paralyzed by loneliness, but my coworker and the feelings I have for him has largely filled this void. I’m terrified of going back to the way things were before he came along. I don’t want to feel that way again, but I know if I do let him go that I will end up feeling this way again.

Anyways, unrequited love. It kinda sucks. So if you have any advice, or need more details, I’m all ears. It’s not that I don’t know how to be human. I’m afraid that I’m feeling too much as a human. Please help.

Thank you,

-Sigma Tell  

Hey ST,

Oh my friend, have you come to the right place. You know, the reason I called this column How To Be Human is because being human is hard. It’s a challenge for most of us — whether we feel too much, not much at all, or simply don’t know how to handle whatever feelings we have. Honestly, most of us a combination of the three at various points in our lives.

Here’s another reason this is the right place. Your humble advice columnist spent much of her life in pursuit of people who were unavailable for one reason or other. I’ve had to come to some honest and painful realizations about why I did that, and I want to share those truths with you. They might be hard to hear, and you might dismiss them. That’s okay. Would you believe it took me until I was 40 to finally listen to this advice myself, and to understand my behavior in a way that’s allowed me to start changing it? This is my way of saying that you should save this letter and read it occasionally. You’ll know when you’re ready to hear it and to change. (It’s also my winking way of saying that it’s not surprising a 30-year-old man still seems so youthful. He is!)

The first thing I want to acknowledge is that I can never know what it’s like to grow up as a young gay man. That doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with you, though. I also want to address idea that being a virgin or being sexually inexperienced means something is wrong with you. Our society has a much more complicated relationship with sex than simply “high regard” — although traditional heterosexual society and gay communities are neither the same nor monolithic. Regardless, please know that while I understand it’s tough for you to admit your lack of experience, I want to encourage you to not see it as a failure, as something wrong with you, or even as something weird or bad. There are far more people like you out there than you realize. It’s just that, like you, they don’t talk about it, because we don’t make it comfortable for people to talk about a lack of experience.

But your letter isn’t about sex. It’s about unrequited love, specifically for your coworker. Even though I’ve written about unrequited love before, I haven’t had the chance to write what I want to say to you. Which is this:

Falling for unavailable people is a very easy thing to do. Many of us do it, sometimes for most of our lives. The person may be emotionally or geographically unavailable, married or otherwise in a long-term monogamous relationship, gay or straight or simply not attracted to us, and so on. Emotions are not always very logical things. Attraction is often a mystery concoction of physical and mental chemistry, timing, mood, and more. Humans are still animals at some level, right? I get that your attraction to your coworker is a very real thing that you can’t totally control, and I don’t want to dismiss that part of it.

The problem is that falling for unavailable people is a way to avoid reality. This is especially tempting when our reality is, like yours, less than ideal. You live in a place where you have an extremely limited chance of meeting someone available to you. You don’t feel comfortable or safe being out publicly, which means you can’t openly look for a man you’d want to date or sleep with, and it likely means other gay men who live where you do feel similarly. LGBTQ communities have long relied on signs, codes, and hidden spaces, many of which are still painfully necessary around the world and, unfortunately, here in the US. The internet can help with connections as well, for people who don’t live in urban areas with more active gay, lesbian, or trans communities. But you still live where you live, and maybe there aren’t many spaces like this where you are, or maybe you haven’t found the people who can show them to you, because no one feels safe talking publicly and you pass as straight, so your cycle continues.

Your reality is more than just this, though. You’re insecure about a lot of things, including your lack of sexual experience. There’s a lot you want to hide. You don’t have the confidence to go out and look for men who might be available to you. What if they judge or laugh at you? What if you don’t know what to do? I also can see you have a deep sense that something is wrong with you. Not only do you mention this in relation to sex, you bring it up again with respect to your coworker: He deserves someone better than you. When you think of yourself as a flawed, broken, not-good-enough person, you find yourself attracted to the people you think you deserve. These people tend to also be flawed, broken, not-good-enough — or people who are so totally unavailable you can create an entire fantasy about who they are and what your life with them would be like. And by you, I also mean me and all of us.

I promise I’m not dismissing your feelings for this guy. I have felt exactly as you do about people who were so unavailable to me it’s mind-boggling when I think about it after the fact. And much of my unrequited love has come from my own desire to avoid reality. Why? Because reality is hard and it’s not always fun. It’s easier to go after people who aren’t available so you can pine forever rather than admit you’re scared to be in a relationship or to commit to someone, or so the relationship can fail for reasons that you can blame on someone or something else. Longing for an unavailable person means you don’t have to get honest with yourself about why, deep down inside, you don’t think you deserve someone wonderful, or why you believe someone wonderful deserves a better partner than you could ever hope to be. It is much easier to believe someone else is perfect or at least perfect for you than to recognize and act on your own reality.

ST, I do not want you to go back to your crushing loneliness. I would not wish that on almost anyone. You are in a tough spot, literally and figuratively. You have to think not only about yourself but about where you live and what your options are. I don’t have an easy answer for you, but I do have a place for you to begin: You have to get real about your situation, and you have to start working on feeling good about yourself. You need to find more people you can feel safe around, including other gay men. Maybe also a therapist, one who is very LGBTQ friendly. You need to feel okay with yourself so you can be yourself. It’s easier to tell this straight guy about your lack of experience but to tell another gay man probably feels impossible, right? But who is more likely to be able to help you learn to flirt, to recognize other gay men, to find someone who will help you experiment sexually in a safe, consensual way? I don’t know if you can move, or if you want to, but you do need to find a way to expand your friend circle and support network. Look for resources near you, or in the nearest city. There are definitely other gay men near where you live, you just have to try and find them in a more structured way. I bet if you searched for volunteer groups or book clubs or gyms or literally anything in a nearby large city, you’d find something. It will be terrifying, but you can do it. Carve out the space to start working toward a better reality.

Right now, you have invested nearly all your emotions into a single person. He’s your only close friend and your heart’s true desire. This is not sustainable, either for you or for him. Give this friend of yours a break and be willing to see the reality in that situation too. He has rejected to you, but in an incredibly kind way. I think it is a testament to him as a human and to your friendship that he handled your admission of feelings with kindness. Not because you’re gay and he’s straight, but because it’s hard to respond gracefully when anyone likes you in a way you can’t reciprocate. It’s awkward, and sometimes it brings up feelings you’re not ready to deal with. Maybe he’s questioned his sexuality, or maybe he’s feeling uncertain about having gotten married, or maybe he’s feeling god knows what. Don’t push for him to give you an outright rejection when it’s you who needs to be willing to honor his friendship by hearing what he’s saying. And don’t push yourself to be friends with him if the romantic feelings are too overwhelming.

You and I are a lot alike. We have big feelings and romantic sensibilities. We think hearing someone apologize or reject us will somehow solve a situation or make it easier. We kind of want to be rescued rather than digging in and fixing our situations by ourselves. We invest way too much in one person, all our hopes and expectations and energies, and then are thrust back into loneliness and isolation when that doesn’t pan out. I’ve spent a long time figuring out why I’m like this, and how I’d like to be different. I want you to do the same.

The truth is that finding relationships of all sorts, friends or romantic and sexual partners is a messy business. It’s hard even for people who feel confident or who live in places where there are more options than you have. That’s why people like columns like mine. Hey, I’m an advice columnist and I often don’t don’t know what to do when it comes to my own dating life! Just last night, I was trying to figure out how to have a drink with someone I’m attracted to without making it totally obvious I want to have a drink with them!

Being a human is hard. It’s something you kind of have to work on every day. I don’t want you to spend the next two decades thinking the only options are “crushing loneliness” and “this person is THE ONE and we are destined to be together, if only they would see it.” It is a colossal waste of your time and of your love. I want you to be able to love this friend in the way you both deserve—as a true friend, one who can be there for him in the way he is for you. I want you to have other close friends you trust. I want you to be able to love men who are available to love and desire you. I want you to have really great sex. And the only way you can do that is to figure out how to rescue yourself.

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Hi Leah,

I’m a 17-year-old boy who hasn’t finished school yet. How can I stop criticizing and comparing myself to others? When I accomplish something I mostly end up thinking, “It’s ok, but the majority of people could have done it better. I have to improve that.” Or when I fell in love, I believed the girl wouldn’t choose me, because there are countless other human beings who would suit her better.

I often just see the difference between myself and others. Maybe that’s like that because I see only the strengths of my friends and not their faults. Maybe I don’t accept my faults and flaws or see my strengths. But then, aren’t there always gaps, differences and problems that ensure that people are going on with their lives, making progress, trying new things?

Maybe I’m writing this so I can be sure that insecurity is something everyone has and the only difference is how a person deals with it. I believe getting to know other people’s approaches can be very helpful.

Regards,

a Critic

PS: Do you think that everyone has a free choice? (Just if you’re interested, I’m quite philosophic sometimes.)

Hey Critic,

You sent me this letter a few months ago. I read it and wanted to respond to it, but there were other letters in my inbox that felt more urgent, so I set it aside for the time being. Lately, what feels urgent has changed pretty significantly. It’s time to talk about the questions you asked me.

Many of the columns I’ve written over the past year or so have addressed the questions in your letter in one way or another. Nearly every person who’s written me has expressed some kind of insecurity. Because yes, insecurity is something most of us deal with. Maybe not everyone! But we can assume that most people you know and most people reading this column have experienced at least a little bit of insecurity.

Sometimes insecurity is a matter of perception. It might affect you more intensely than someone else. Plenty of people struggle with feeling good about themselves or just feeling good, period. Others are barely bothered by even big things and take most everything in stride. It’s a mix of brain chemistry and learned behavior. Maybe you grew up in a supportive family but you still feel crippled by insecurity. Maybe you grew up in a terrible environment but are deeply resilient. Maybe it’s a combination. But your assumption is right: Insecurity depends a lot on how a person deals with it, both in terms of emotions and actions.

At the center of emotional security is a person’s ego. I don’t want to get totally Freudian here, so I mostly mean a person’s self-esteem and self-worth as well as their sense of self-importance. But it’s important to consider the psychoanalytic definition of ego too, because the ego is the part of your personality that deals with things like defensiveness and perception. It’s the part that has to balance your deep instinctual drives with the weird rules you’ve learned from family and society, all with some regard for reality as you perceive it.

Now, I bet you know someone who seems to sail through life with ease, despite being wildly mediocre or even outright failing at things. If you don’t, just wait — you’ll meet these people eventually. There are people out there who have an outsized sense of their own capacities and abilities, and a sometimes stunning lack of self-awareness about their own faults and weaknesses. As the internet loves to remind us, this is known as the Dunning-Kruger effect: people who are incompetent don’t know they’re incompetent and thus have a wildly inflated sense of their own abilities. Competent people think they’re much less competent than they are, and also assume that if they did something well, it’s because it’s easy, or at least easy for everyone else. As Dunning and Kruger put it, “The miscalibration of the incompetent stems from an error about the self, whereas the miscalibration of the highly competent stems from an error about others.”

It all starts to make sense, right? Ego and self-importance. Our levels of resilience. How we perceive reality. What we do when we fail to recognize either our own competence or our own incompetence. How we behave when our reality, self-image, and self-worth are threatened. What we do when insecurity makes us angry or afraid, and whether we turn this against ourselves or others.

Like you, Critic. Thinking a girl won’t like you because there’s someone better for her, or minimizing an accomplishment because you don’t see your own value. Sure, your friends have their strengths and skills, and it’s important to recognize and celebrate those. But that’s not what you’re doing — you’re using their strengths as a way to feel bad about your own perceived weaknesses. That’s bad for you, and it’s bad for your friendships. Constantly comparing yourself to others leaves little room to make real progress in your own life. Competition can be healthy, and having friends who push you to be your best is wonderful. But comparison, as the saying goes, is the thief of joy. It robs you of happiness, as well as your friends, and by extension any community you’re a part of.

Comparison is very human. It’s disingenuous when people say “don’t judge others” because everyone judges all the time. That’s part of survival: Judging a situation, deciding whether it’s safe, learning from it, tucking away the knowledge so you can more effectively judge future situations. Even judging other people is normal. We’re all wandering around with our ids and egos and super-egos, our brain chemistries and cultural experiences, our very different realities. We compare and judge. We feel scared and insecure and threatened. Not everyone who experiences this writes a letter wanting to understand it better.

It’s like you said, Critic. There are always gaps, differences, and problems. People are going on with their lives, lives that aren’t simply reflections of you and what you’re capable of. Lives that have their own experiences, and often lives that experience different realities than yours. I love that you see this, and that you understand it on a fundamental level. I love too that you can see how comparing yourself to other people isn’t working. You know that what you need to do is find a way to strengthen your self-image while recognizing that other people have their own struggles, strengths, and weaknesses.

So how do you do that? There are lots of ways to try. Some people like daily affirmations — looking at themselves in the mirror every morning or every evening and saying positive things out loud. Some people like to publicly acknowledge their accomplishments and encourage others to do the same, like on Facebook or Twitter, to mutually reinforce and celebrate. You can try therapy to change your outlook, or exercise to get yourself out of your head and into your endorphin-fueled body. You can consider a spiritual practice. Or, since you have an interest in philosophy, you can see if Kierkegaard or Sartre or Adorno have any resonance for you (maybe hold off on Heidegger).

Me, I like yoga. I’ve written about it before, but I’ll repeat it again and again: I love having a practice that’s not about anyone but me. It’s not about comparison — it absolutely does not matter if someone else is more flexible or stronger than I am, because that has zero impact on whether I can do a pose. I love remembering that when I do compare myself to someone else, I usually make a mistake because I stop focusing on my own work. I love learning there’s a range of possibilities between “total failure” and “absolute perfection.” I love recognizing that when I stop beating myself up and let myself just practice, I’m actually more competent than I think. I especially love that, as I become more self-aware and less insecure, I become much more understanding of people around me. I don’t feel as threatened, and when I do, at least I know what it is and can try to address it productively.

Which brings me to your PS about free choice, by which I think you mean free will but I like the combination and inclusion of choice. I think a lot about choice, as you may know if you read my columns. I think all we have is choice, which we mistake for control. So you can choose to learn new ways of coping with insecurity. Maybe you can’t control it, but you can get better at how you react, right?

But your question is about free choice specifically. This makes it trickier. Because I don’t believe we have complete free will. People’s choices are constrained by a lot of things. There’s brain chemistry, like I mentioned earlier. Then there are circumstantial and cultural constraints. We can’t assume everyone has access to the same options that we have or are able to make the same choices. It’s like the example a Sociology professor of mine used in discussion the fundamentals of Marxism: “You can have any beverage you want, from this range of Coca-Cola products!” In other words, you can choose anything you want from the menu, but who constructed the menu? Yes, you have agency but just how free is it? Whenever possible, try and understand the menus other people have access to. How are their choices constrained by opportunity, oppression, religious or cultural belief, fear, a totally different perception of reality? When you learn about them, what does it do to your own sense of security?

As for your insecurity, I have a strong feeling you’ll get a handle on it soon enough. You’re ahead of the game, both in recognizing it’s something to work on and in recognizing that other people are having their own separate, similar experiences. In the meantime, keep having experiences, learning new things, asking smart questions, and thoughtfully examining yourself and the world you live in. A lot of us could stand to do more of the same.

Lx

Leah Reich was one of the first internet advice columnists. Her column “Ask Leah” ran on IGN, where she gave advice to gamers for two and a half years. During the day, Leah is Slack’s user researcher, but her views here do not represent her employer. How to be Human runs every other Sunday. You can write to her at askleah@theverge.com and read more How to be Human here.

Hey Leah,

I am married and have been for eight years. We also have two children, two and four years old. I am a stay-at-home mom and my husband works two jobs. We are happily married. He recently took me on a kid-free weekend getaway to the town where we met for the first time. It was very romantic.

The town just happened to be where I went to college so it also has other memories for me. We had a great time, nice dinners, even discovered a new bar we wanted to check out. Well, at that bar I thought I saw someone I had a history with, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to him to see if it was the same person. So for the next few hours this person was on my mind, but I didn’t let it ruin rest of the evening. My husband and I went back to our hotel, had a passionate evening, and went to bed, but the other guy was still on my mind. I had looked at his Facebook profile in the past but never contacted him. That night I thought I would sent him a message just asking if he happened to be at the same bar that night. To be completely honest, I wasn’t even sure he would have remembered me, since it had been 12 years since we last had contact.

The next afternoon he replied to me. It wasn’t actually him at the bar the night before but he did remember who I was. We continued messaging for a couple hours just reminiscing. (I know, red flag right there!) I told him right upfront that I was married with kids now, but he is still single. He proceeded to flirt with me throughout the conversation and I continued to remind him I am married now. I must admit it made me feel really good that after 12 years he still remembered me and that he couldn’t stop flirting. It made for some very passionate lovemaking between the husband and me for the rest of our getaway. But even though I didn’t do anything and didn’t even see the other guy in person, I felt extremely guilty.

Now that we are back home and back to the reality of real life, work, kids, money problems, etc. I still find myself constantly thinking of this other guy. I’m assuming it’s because he came into my life at a much more carefree time then what I have going on now. It was later in my college years where I was already adjusted to living on my own, and my biggest worry in life was finals. We weren’t really boyfriend/girlfriend, it was definitely more of a friends with benefits relationship. My favorite part was the spontaneity of it all as well as no strings attached. We could see other people or have a real relationship if we wanted. That is actually what ended our “friendship.” I met and started dating my now husband. We were starting to get serious so I ended it with the “friend” and hadn’t talked to him for the last 12 years until now. I really want to see him again (I know, red flag again!), maybe because I very abruptly ended it so long ago or maybe because he is a reminder of simple times in my life. Either way he is a genuinely nice person and we are both mature adults now. I, 100 percent, would never have sex with him even though I have fantasized about it. Even if I tried to have sex with him, and I know we wants to have sex with me again, he would never let that happen because he knows what that could do to my life now.

So if that is not all bad enough my husband and I had an interesting conversations the other night. (By the way my husband did know about this person from before, he just didn’t know I contacted him on our weekend getaway.) I guess you could say my husband and I have become a little too comfortable with each other. We still have sex regularly, anywhere between one to five times a week, but it has become very routine and boring. Since we had so much fun that weekend we brought up the idea of doing another weekend getaway but this time finding other people to have fun with (red flag, red flag, red flag!!!). So I would find another guy and he could have another girl, we would both be together the whole time so each other would know everything that the other does. I guess you could call it a foursome. I think the idea interests him so much because I am the only women he has ever had sex with and I know deep down inside he wants to try it with someone else. Now I did mention this other guy and the husband says he would be okay with that. Looks like I found a way to have my cake and eat it too!

I just worry because even though everything would be in the presence of the spouse and we have talked ground rules, I think we might regret it. That said, even talking about it has spiced up our sex life, it’s like we have passion again. We have said we would go back to the town we met, always be in the presence of each other, and leave it all behind when we left town. Could this be just what our marriage needs or is this the biggest mistake we could ever make? Please give me your take on the whole situation with fresh eyes.

Thank you so much.

J

Hey J,

Sometimes I like to think about all the ways a person justifies and excuses the thing they want, even if they very much know the thing they want is going to lead to a lot of trouble and heartache. This sort of thing is much clearer when you’re outside the situation, either because you’re not at all involved or because your own bad decision is far behind you and you can enjoy the benefit of hindsight.

The problem, though, is that you’re deep in it right now. That you wrote me and asked for my take is hopeful, because it tells me that you want someone to sit you down and give it to you straight. But I don’t know if you’re really ready to hear me yet, because it’s very clear you’re not ready to hear yourself. And you’re the one who’s going to have to make this decision.

Let me back up a little bit. I am not an expert on open relationships, swinging, or polyamory. But I’ve been around long enough to have learned that long-term partnerships and relationships, like marriage, are enormously complicated in ways that other relationships aren’t. Each type of relationship has its challenges, right? I’ve also been around long enough to understand that social norms are often based as much in how people talk about their behavior. This is true both because saying you adhere to a social norm means you avoid stigma and because there is often a very striking difference between what people say they do and what they actually do.

For example, it’s easier for many reasons to say you’re monogamous when in fact you’re not. One reason is that marriage, a major social institution that affects many aspects of our society, is based on the idea of lifelong monogamy, so it’s expected. Saying you’re not monogamous requires you to answer questions, feel scrutinized, have to justify your decisions and behaviors, and so on. Another reason is that how people define monogamy can vary wildly. If you cheat on your spouse, do you consider yourself non-monogamous? What constitutes an affair or a relationship to you? What’s the difference between an affair that’s solely emotional or solely physical, and what do you call it when your peanut butter gets on your chocolate? I think a lot of couples have more relaxed boundaries around their relationships than many people think, but they don’t talk as openly about them — maybe because it’s more a fuzzy sense of what they’d be okay with than an actively defined way of being, or because talking about it is deeply personal and they don’t want to have to explain their choices to other people.

Like almost anything humans do, monogamy is easier for some people than others. I realize that we’re animals and so driven by a variety of instincts we can’t always intellectually understand, but I also think it’s dumb to say things like “swans are monogamous,” as if we’re somehow failing as a species by not imitating waterfowl. I mean, male swans will also chase away and even kill a baby if it’s unable to feed itself and keep up with the rest of the cygnets, but you don’t see everyone insisting humans do that too. Plus, humans are also social animals and we have a wide range of different cognitive abilities. Nature, nurture, and so on.

My opinions on monogamy have changed a lot. Is monogamy for me? When it comes to cats, yes, but humans, I don’t know. I do know I’m much more secure in myself, now that I’m in my 40s, and that makes me feel less jealous and possessive. They’re really tied into one another! I also know no one person can be another person’s everything. Sometimes this means only one romantic partner but lots of very close friends, and sometimes this means a primary romantic partner with a variety of other relationships, some of which may be sexual, romantic, or both. Humans are regularly intrigued by and attracted to lots of other humans, and it’s dumb to pretend we’re not, or that we’re not delighted and energized by attention and unfamiliar chemistry.

It’s also dumb to act on that attention and chemistry without consideration for your partner. This is where we return to you, J. Like I said, I am not an expert on open marriages. But I do know good relationships require honest communication, and this is especially true of open relationships. By honesty I don’t mean full disclosure. I do mean being truthful, though.

You need to start by being honest with yourself. Why did you contact that guy the weekend your husband took you on a romantic getaway? It’s one thing to say you can’t stop thinking about someone else during your day-to-day life and routine existence. But you reached out to him and couldn’t stop thinking about him when your husband was making a solid effort to lift you two out of that existence. This is the part that bothers me the most, not only because it is deeply unfair to your husband, who seems like a good guy, but because it’s the snowball that starts the avalanche of your justifications. I don’t think you want to spice up your marriage. I think you want to sleep with this guy in a way that allows you to do so without guilt. That’s what makes this whole situation the biggest mistake you are in the process of making.

You spent part of that romantic weekend with your husband messaging with this other guy. Of course it spiced things up — you felt excited and re-energized by the attention. I want you to re-read the paragraph in which you tell me about how “up front” you were that you were married. This is not the behavior of someone respecting boundaries, which is very necessary in all relationships and particularly in open relationships. Reminding this guy you’re married is not the same thing as saying “hey, I am married, so as nice as this is, I shouldn’t flirt with you, so I better go.” This is why you felt guilty. Because you were crossing a boundary, and you knew it.

If you’re not convinced yet just how much justification is going on here, please look at the part in your letter where you tell me you would “100% never have sex with him” and he would not have sex with you, because you’re married. That is an exceptional moment of denial. I’m sure he’s a nice guy! Nice people cheat on their spouses and nice people sleep with married people. Plus, you end your letter telling me you are thinking of having sex with him. Your husband is the gateway to make this happen.

Maybe it feels like I’m being harsh, but that’s because I want you to sit up and pay attention to what you’re doing. If you came to me and said “hey, we’re thinking about this, do you have any advice?” I’d have been supportive. But I don’t think you are anywhere near ready to have the kind of open discussion and understanding of boundaries necessary to have sex with this guy in front of your husband, or to watch him have sex with someone else. You specifically want to have sex with this guy, and you need to be honest about that with yourself. You need to be honest about your relationship, what makes you happy, what’s missing from your life, what you want. Do you want to strengthen your relationship with your husband? Or do you want, as you say, to have your cake and eat it too? Because in the history of humankind, that sort of cake-related behavior rarely ends well for anyone.

One of the things I did when I got your letter was look up information about open relationships. I know a lot of people in open relationships, and I’ve talked to and observed them plenty, but I wanted to be absolutely sure I wasn’t totally off the mark in saying the following: an open relationship means a lot of things are up for discussion, sure, but with the baseline understanding that both partners are being honest and respectful. How would your husband feel if he knew how the truth of when you got in touch with this guy and why you wanted him to be the one you invite in? What will you do if, in some future hotel room, your husband freaks out and says he can’t do it? What if you can’t do it? What if your husband fell for someone else? How are you going to be supportive emotionally in the after if you’re not being supportive emotionally in the before?

It is normal to feel bored and like you want a change. You take care of two very small children all day. Your husband works two jobs. You’ve got a full-blown case of “adulthood is good but also boring, I want freedom.” This is not weird or unusual! But trying to reconnect with the past in order to rejuvenate your present is going to make you pretty miserable in the future. Be honest with yourself. Then you can be honest with your husband. That way you’ll know what path is best for you.

Lx