external validation - by me
no, take another sip. do it. it seems casual. you’re normal, drinking. it’s fine. break eye contact for a sec.
…
yeah. much better. wow, this beer sucks. ok, good. look into her eyes. nod. smile. laugh in 3…2…1, AH. PERFECT. got a reaction out of her. playful arm touching on her end, that’s a good sign. yeah.
…
ok. she’s picking it up. ok. listen…listen…listen…nod along…OH what’s that passing by…oh that’s Riley, ok quick eye contact, yeah he better give me a thumbs up…okay…back to her…nod along, listening…listening…listening…laugh and make a big gesture, GREAT.
“yeah, i mean well, i started in college. i had a bunch of tech friends and because i was in film and whatever, they were like, ‘hey we need videos!”
ok good, she’s interested…
“you know and one thing leads to another and ive got a couple friends out in San Francisco so i just kinda was there with them, spent some time…it was alright, yeah….mhmmm…”
what do i think? she’s asking me what i think. how do i respond. what’ll make me look good. or better. i look fine already. i think. like personality wise. physically too. i’m fine physically, right? i think so. yeah man i look good. fuck ok what was i just thinking. yes yes yes San Francisco. yeah ok what should i say
“yeah it was ok. i think i liked the idea of San Francisco more than the reality…it feels a little… college-y now. like people just doing things, building companies or products or whatever AI stuff because they just think it’s cool or it’ll make money. a very much power-without-a-direction kinda feeling, you know, ‘just because we can build it, we should.”
oh she loves that. nodding along, her voice excited, hand gestures, her getting closer a bit. oh this is perfect, im in the end zone right fucking now. YES. ok, take another sip. god this beer fucking sucks, who even likes Coronas? anyways…wow she looks really pretty. like her hair. and her soft features. and her voice. wow her voice is beautiful. its low and slow and breathy and…
SHIT. OH SHE’S GRABBING HER JACKET. OKAY. OKAY CALM DOWN…fix your hair, put the drink by your side, hanging loosely not gripping it, stand a little straighter, jaw a bit tighter, yeah, okay perfect. yeah.
“yeah, it was nice talking to you too yeah…oh do you live in the city?”
brookyln she says. like 10 minutes away. ok armaan, go in for the kill
“oh nice. would u be down to grab dinner sometime?”
yeah. she’d love to! she say’d she’d be down. wait what. what. why is she…
gone…
?
before i could eve-
before i could even take out my phone and…
get her numb-
oh.
okay.
bye.
—
and like that, gone.
where her body stood, now empty space. the soft, chipped paint of an eggshell-white door, beaten and battered through years of brooklyn-ites many, many late nights. and she’s gone…like that…
maybe she wasn’t that interested…
no. i guess not.
…
c’mon, who cares? it’s just some random girl at a friend’s party, who gives a shit.
yeah! who gives a shit. it’s nothing. forget about it.
she’s the one missing out anyway.
yeah.
forget it.
her loss
…
damnit, i need another drink
____
present
breaking news, i didn’t forget it. i mean to be fair it’s only the day after that funny interaction with a girl, who shall go unnamed but simply know it started with a C and end with an E. let’s call her Claire. yeah, Claire is nice, because no one would be named Claire with an “e” at the end in this world. so yeah. Claire.
it’s only been a day since me and claire’s interaction. 25 hours or so, in fact. it’s honestly like no big deal. i’ve been rejected many a time before, that’s fine. to be truthful, i don’t find EVERYONE attractive, so i can’t expect EVERYONE to find me attractive either. whether it be phyiscal or personality-wise or anything at all. but at the same time, to shoot again, and it fall flat yet again…it sucks.
i dont want this to sound like a sob story or whatever. that’s not the point. the point is the sorta internal monologue that rings out in my head…the metaphorical worm in my RFK-of-a-brain that somehow gets me to fix my hair every couple of minutes, to dart my eyes around and check my surroundings, to make eye contact and laugh and butt in with a joke when there’s a moment. the part of me that says “hmm, try this out…” or “make a joke about …” or “circle back around to that point they brought up earlier” or “do a 180 in this conversation and start a new train of questions or something” or whatever.
in conversation with people i don’t know, like i’m meeting at a party or in line somewhere or some god forsaken “networking” event, i am constantly re-orienting my dialectical compass. tweaking and changing by 1, 2, or sometimes even 180 degrees what tone i’m speaking in, or what body language is conveying, or how the current question im asking is gonna lead to a certain answer two or three steps down the road.
in a way, i’m kinda playing chess in my mind, figuring out what move i make next will lead to my desired outcome.
maybe it’s a laugh.
maybe it’s to muster up some deep insight from this person.
maybe it’s to get their number.
maybe it’s something else entirely.
but oftentimes, i feel myself directing conversation. unless i’m the third person in a group or im not really feeling like talking.
i don’t DO most of the talking in lots of these first encounter conversations, such as the one with Claire. i let them speak. it’s more fun that way. i get to make little jokes and comment on things, all while learning about other people. and as odd as that might be, that’s fun to me! learning about others and their lives and ideas.
so it’s a win-win-win-win.
i dont want to sound like some Machiavellian freak. sometimes i chit-chat just to shoot to shit, to get a laugh or have someone else make me laugh, and oftentimes i go into meeting someone with 0 desired outcomes at all.
but in the cases in which my desired outcome is the strongest, like it was for Claire, i wanted that number. wanted to go on a date with her. wanted to sip on cheap wine and talk the troubles of our technology-riddled world. or something like that, idk.
and for this case with Claire, i fear that i may have come off…a little…much.
a bit too much hand gestures. one too many “fixings-of-the-hair”. two questions too many. and three sips of alcohol far too much(i mean c’mon, what sub-25 year old drinks these days?!)
or maybe she wasn’t into me or she doesn’t like guys or she has a boyfriend already and all this overthinking and WRITING AN ESSAY ABOUT IT is just armaan overthinking.
but oh well.
overthink i shall and overthink i shall continue.
___
today, i talked about this with a friend. a friend of mine who’s a provacateur - someone who aims to evoke a reaction out of someone.
oftentimes, he bends the truth or eeks out a white lie - a harmless lie at that, but a fabrication nonetheless, just to get a reaction out of someone. and that reaction is indicative of what kinda person they are.
for example, he might make up a story about him and his friends going to a strip club on his 18th birthday. it’s not true, but understanding how someone responds to a story like that, whether they smile and nod or they bite their fingers and look at you with disgust, well that is gold. it tells a bit about who they are.
so we kinda came to the conclusion that he manipulates and lies to people to get information about them. and it’s kinda unfair.
now it didnt come from a place of hate or malpractice, in fact, he thought bending the truth to provoke and learn about someone is the very act which made him so good at navigating different groups and environments, like musician circles or corporate america or whatever might be.
but you have to get me when i say this behavior is a tad…sociopathic.
manipulative, for sure.
and ultimately he said “fuck man, you’re right…i do this and i do this often enough and i need to stop.”
and i, like a good friend, nodded along and said “i agree and im happy you’re working on this, man.”
and then my Bachelor of Science in Psychology had to speak up and say “Oh yeah, man. Jung called that part of you the ‘shadow’ self…you know…the part of you that acts out of fear or insecurity and does things that might hurt others in the process.”
and he goes “oh, ive heard of that”
and i smiled and said “GREAT”
and he said “you know i think what your shadow side is?”
my face froze. i wasn’t expecting that…but okay.
“umm, i think i know…but do you wanna tell me?”
and he says “yeah man, you kinda chamelon depending on who you’re talking to. like you go alone with whatever they say or think and just…well…social chamelon”
i nodded along.
he’s right.
for sure.
and then he says; “Yeah, you just really love external validation. and i think you think that being a chamelon and making them laugh or talk about themselves is gonna get you in their good graces.”
my mouth dried up instantly.
i’m talking Sahara Desert on the bottom of my tongue.
tumbleweeds blowing across my tastebuds, leaving little trails of “fuck-he’s-right” droplets.
“yeah…”, i started, “i do really like external validation…like…a lot.”
“mmmhmm” he goes. “hey man, we all do…we all like to be liked. but the way we go about that, well that’s different. for you, you kinda chamelon and adapt to whatever situation. and you’re a lot. you’re very dramatic in how you speak, in your cadence, in your tone, in your gestures and every little bit…it’s a lot, especially for people who don’t know you…”
i gulped.
“and honestly, it can seem a little fake…”, he ended, plunging the dagger into my fragile soul.
___
so the truth is, while my friend manipulates other people with lies to extract information about them, i manipulate myself to adapt to the person im speaking with to earn their favor.
i manipulate myself.
now that sounds way worse than what it actually is.
because in practice, “manipulating myself” in this context means shutting up, listening to the person, and talking about what they wanna talk about rather than just “me, me, me, me” all damn day long. i live in my head 24/7, so im pretty comfortable learning about what it’s like in someone else’s head.
but that yearning for validation, for understanding someone and really getting them, can come off as very…actor-ly. i might be overexaggerated in my gestues or crack too many jokes at a time. i go on some tangent, acting out a story or a reciting some silly podcast segment i was listening to earlier that day. and even though it’s late at night and im a few drinks in, i have the energy of a coke’d up 7 year old, laughing and smiling and acting things out like it’s barely lunch-time.
i GET why i can seem like im acting and performative when i meet someone.
it doesn’t come from a place of bad intention, it’s actually me. im very loud and if you know me in real life, you’d know how…um…unique of a person i can be at times. but this hungering for external validation at the cost of self-respect or whatever…it’s something i want to be a bit more aware of.
you know, maybe Claire left before i could ask for her phone number for a multitude of reasons. and though it’s likely something else entirely, it could be the “vibe” i was giving off.
perhaps i felt a little too wish-y-washy, just another film-lover-camera-weirdo who makes documentaries and talks loudly with his hands and has a small hoop earring and a thumb ring and Doc-fucking-Martens.
perhaps it was something else entirely.
but i think there might’ve been a hint of external validation seeking that she snuffed out from me. and it stunk.
stunk like Raw tuna on a hot summer day in the middle of central texas.
___
i hope this didnt sound like a sob story about some girl who doesn’t feel the same way as i do.
that’s meh.
i hope instead my vomit-of-words uncoveirng this “external-validation-seeking”, and how i manipulate myself to get what i want, is really what sticks.
and im aware that most of us humans LOVE external validation. our brains are wired to feel GREAT when other humans approve of us. but maybe i care a tad too much what strangers think about me. and ill work on that.
__
we’ve all got a thorn in our sides.