When someone presses the "dislike" button

Lessons that, for most of us, can be very hard to swallow:

-The fact that a person dislikes you doesn’t always mean they don’t know you well enough.
-The fact that someone dislikes you doesn’t automatically mean they are an asshole. It also doesn’t mean that you’re an asshole.
-It’s okay to not be fond of somebody who likes you. The same goes for vice versa.

On the first point: We all want to believe that everybody would like us if they knew us better, and that any person’s aversion is based on misinformation. Unfortunately, this isn’t true. If a person looks at me and doesn’t like what they see, it doesn’t necessarily mean their lenses need a new prescription. They could be seeing real flaws that are deal breakers for them. They could be seeing personality traits that are objectively neither good nor bad, but are simply not compatible with themselves. They could be seeing qualities that remind them of bad memories or sometimes their own insecurities. I’m not for everyone, and neither are you. This is all right. It’s not okay for somebody to be nasty and hostile, but we’re all allowed our own feelings. If I do have a flaw that is consistently pointed out, then it’s my responsibility to work on it. However, I shouldn’t do it with the end goal of winning any specific person’s friendship. It also doesn’t help to bury oneself in shame. That can actually stop us from making improvements.

Regarding the second point: Sometimes a person will dislike you for a terrible reason. They may be bigoted or prejudiced. They may have a prior commitment to animosity because of malicious intentions, and that does reflect badly on their character. They might just feel unfavorable toward most people. But, in other circumstances, there could be valid reasons for an aversion. The most common reactions seem to be to vilify the person who doesn’t like you, or to internalize it and decide there must be something wrong with you. As I said, it doesn’t have to mean any personal failing for either party. It could just be incompatibility.

As for the third point: Although we’re much more apt to like people who appreciate us, the fact that someone is fond of you doesn’t mean you’re obligated to return that feeling. That doesn’t mean it’s justifiable to be a jerk, but you’re not an unkind person for not wanting to hang out with them or be close. Likewise, it’s not weird or pathetic to like somebody who doesn’t seem interested in you. In that case, it helps to not internalize their disinterest (although that’s easier said than done), and it’s important to respect their boundaries and not push a relationship.

There are complex reasons for why some people click with each other and others don’t, and it doesn’t always reflect on character. It’s easy to get hung up on the people who don’t like us, even if we get along well with most people. The helpful thing is to do the best we can, and find those who both understand and enjoy us. There are plenty who will.

Why the friend zone is a myth

When I say that "the friend zone" doesn't exist, I don't mean that leading people on doesn't exist. I don't mean that nobody deliberately flirts with someone they know has unrequited feelings for them, aware it will hurt but not caring because it feeds their own ego. And while that behavior is often exclusively criticized in women, people of all genders do it. Anybody who behaves that way is being selfish and dishonest, not a friend. So I'd rather call it "leading people on" than "friendzoning."

When I say there's no such thing as "the friend zone," what I mean is that people do not become friends with others out of spite. Nobody decides, "I'm going to be friends with somebody who likes me romantically in order to punish them. I'm going to relegate them to a confined 'zone.'" And if a person sees friendship as inherently manipulative or punitive, then the chances are high that they're a pretty sub-par friend.

Also, I suspect a lot of people think they're being led on when they may be interpreting friendly behavior as flirtatious. As I said, it's not that this never happens. It's just that there can be misunderstandings, sometimes due to wishful thinking and sometimes due to entitlement.

Social media time travel

I wish there was a social media network to connect us to people from different times. And before anyone says "books", I mean in a reciprocal way. A Facebook-like service to communicate with others from the future, or the far distant past, or with relatives the way they were before we knew them. Or even with a friend who completely changed; to talk to them when they were different. It would ret-con the universe and completely screw up our timeline, but it would be so damn interesting and cathartic before time starts to eat its own tail and the aliens have to show up and fix everything.

The subjectivity of forgiveness

Forgiveness is complicated, personal, and different for everyone. While there isn't a one-size-fits-all solution, I would say that nobody should try to pressure or rush anyone else into forgiveness. It might take a long while—and there's no "correct" or prescribed time frame you need to adapt to. It's also okay if there's never a point when you're able to forgive an action or a person (also, people and their actions can be separated and forgiven at different times). It isn't an obligation. If anybody tries to convince you that you owe it to them after they've done serious harm, then they're not genuinely remorseful and probably haven't changed.

Appreciation

I wish everyone knew all the incredible people I know--and didn't just know them, but understood what makes them so wonderful. It would be great if everyone could see the people I care about in the same light. Not so they'd all agree with me, but so they could derive the same enjoyment. The same goes for all the music and stories and series I'm moved by. And in turn, I wish I could know all the beloved people and things that everyone else holds close, and to see them all the same way others do. Then again, the act of appreciating everything would cancel itself out if one of the things people enjoy is misanthropically hating on stuff. So go figure.

Awkward matchmaking and gay friends

One thing I don't really understand is when a straight person finds out someone is gay and says, "Oh, my cousin/brother/friend is gay, too! I should set you up." I know that this doesn't come from a place of hostility. It's out of a desire to be supportive or helpful, but it is a little odd. Nobody has the same reaction when they find out someone is straight; maybe just because it's taken for granted. There are ones who do this with hetero single friends, but it's not as pronounced. Maybe because it's easy for straight individuals to find each other (whether or not they'd be compatible), so friends want to help those with a less common orientation find a match. But it's inaccurate to think two people would click just because they're both the gender the other is interested in. What would indicate that they'd have any other connection? If that's the assumption, it could be due to the (obviously false) belief that most gay people are similar, or that they can't be particular about who they like because they're just happy to find another non-hetero person at all.

People I cannot be friends with

There are two specific kinds of people whom I have tried to befriend and engage in constructive dialogue with, but it never seems to work. And those are social Darwinists and religious fundamentalists. When a person is invested in either of those mindsets, I can never be close friends with them. This is why:

Social Darwinism is, essentially, a sociopathic philosophy. It teaches that we as human beings have no moral responsibility to help others in need, and that those who are deemed "weaker" (due to disability, mental health issues, addiction, poverty, or physical ailments) should just be left to die off if they can't help themselves. I suspect that most who identify as social Darwinists are selective with whom they apply it to. It's doubtful that most of them would refuse to help family members or friends, and if anyone close to them were struggling, I don't think they'd want to let them suffer or die. Nonetheless, they hold a selfish and unsympathetic attitude in regard to most people. A social Darwinist who makes no exceptions, however, is a true sociopath.

Religious fundamentalism can easily become sociopathic as well. If you honestly believe that anyone who doesn't intellectually assent to a specific set of theological statements (even if they subscribe to your religion; just not your particular strand of it) will be punished with eternal torment, you will react in one of three ways. The first way is to be crushed with anxiety on behalf of everyone you care about who does not share your beliefs. You'll pray and worry about them constantly, expending all your efforts on trying to convert them, which will likely drive them away. If you don't respond with fear, there's a second option: you’ll get angry. You will resent anyone who has a different religious perspective and choose to cut them out of your life because keeping that distance shields you from the pain of believing they're going to hell. Getting angry rationalizes what you see as their fate; you decide they deserve it, so you don't have to feel sorry or scared for them. The third option is avoidance. You'll just push it to the back of your mind and try to ignore the cognitive dissonance. Friendships between fundamentalists and non-fundamentalists rarely seem to work, because the closer you are, the more tense it becomes. If a fundamentalist can't convert you to their specific form of religious thought, they'll eventually cut you off—or you'll walk away because you're tired of being judged and preached at.

A religious fundamentalist believes you deserve unlimited suffering if you don't share their beliefs, and a social Darwinist believes you deserve unlimited suffering if you don't have the money or inner resources to dig yourself out.

I've tried to be friends with people of both of these philosophies, because I thought it would be hypocritical of me to expect others to accept my beliefs unless I also accepted theirs. But some beliefs truly kill compassion and connection, or justify a lack of compassion that the person already has. I won't say they're necessarily hopeless. I used to believe all kinds of destructive things, and if there was hope for me, there's hope for anyone. But that doesn't mean you're obligated to stick around and mutually try to change each other's minds.