Am I Really That Uninteresting?
Kumusta Tita,
Even though I have friends, family, and a partner, I still feel lonely sometimes. No one ever really seeks me out to go see a movie, go shopping, or do nerdy things that I love. My partner isn’t into gaming or the other hobbies I’m passionate about, and the same goes for my family.
It feels like I’m always the one reaching out, asking people to hang out, and either they don’t respond or they brush me off. I’m starting to feel like I’m not on anyone’s radar—like I’m more of an afterthought, or not even a thought at all.
I’ve felt this way for a long time, and it leaves me sad, frustrated, and angry. I don’t understand why I get left behind, but it feels like everyone does it to me. Am I really that uninteresting, forgettable, unlovable, or boring? There must be something wrong with me if so many people can’t give me the time of day.
Sincerely,
Forever Alone
Hey FA,
Here’s the thing, diva: loneliness doesn’t care if you’ve got a partner, a family, or a whole goddamn entourage. It sneaks in anyway, like cigarette smoke in a shitty motel room. You can open the window, run the fan, spray Febreze. Doesn’t matter. It lingers. You’re sitting in a full room, technically surrounded, but still feel like you’re eating alone. That feeling? It’s real, it’s heavy, and it sucks. And you’re not crazy for it.
But let’s tear into this a little, because I hear two stories in your letter.
The first story is about what you want: connection, belonging, someone who texts first and says, “Hey, let’s go do nerd shit together.” Someone who matches your enthusiasm for the things that light you up. Someone who makes you feel like you’re not a burden, not an afterthought.
The second story is the one you’re telling yourself about why you don’t have that: “I must be boring. I must be unlovable. I must be forgettable.” That’s the dangerous one. Because once that story starts looping in your head, you stop seeing reality clearly. You start looking at every unanswered text, every shrugged-off invite, every Saturday night spent scrolling alone as proof that you’re defective. Spoiler: you’re not defective. But right now, you’re living like you believe it.
Most people are selfish. Not evil, just selfish. They think about their own shit, their own needs, their own schedules. They’re not sitting around plotting how to exclude you. They’re just too wrapped up in their own little Netflix queues, grocery lists, kids’ soccer games, or Instagram spirals to notice that you’re starving for connection. That doesn’t excuse it, but it explains it. And it’s a reminder: the fact that they’re not showing up for you does not automatically mean you’re not worth showing up for.
You said you’re always the one reaching out. And that sucks, I know. It makes you feel like a dog dropping a ball at people’s feet, just begging them to throw it back. And when they don’t? Yeah, it makes you feel like shit. But here’s the harsh part: if you’re relying on the same people over and over, hoping they’ll suddenly become the ride-or-die, nerd-culture-loving crew of your dreams… you’re wasting your time. They’re showing you who they are. Believe them.
Stop setting yourself on fire to keep lukewarm people warm.
If your family doesn’t care about the things you’re into, that’s fine. They don’t have to. If your partner isn’t into gaming, that’s okay, too. You don’t need to drag them along to Comic-Con. What you need is your people. And chances are, you haven’t actually found them yet.
So instead of banging your head against the wall of indifference, start investing your energy somewhere else. Join a gaming group online or in person. Go to local nerd events, trivia nights, comic shops, D&D meetups. Hell, even Discord servers or Reddit subs can lead to real friendships if you show up consistently. Don’t sit around waiting for your family to magically love Final Fantasy. Go find the people who already do. They exist. But you’ve got to put yourself where they are.
Part of why you feel like an afterthought might be because you’re measuring your worth in the wrong currency. You’re judging yourself by how often people reach out, instead of by how you actually show up in the world. People might not be calling you first, but that doesn’t make you invisible. It just means you haven’t built the kind of reciprocal relationships you crave yet.
Stop blaming yourself. You’re not unlovable. You’re not defective. You’re just not surrounded by people who match your energy right now. That’s not a moral failing. It’s a logistics problem.
Diversify your connections. Don’t put all your emotional eggs in one basket, whether that’s your partner, your family, or one flaky friend. Build a network that’s wide and weird. Some people will be your nerd buddies. Some will be your deep-talk-at-2am friends. Some will be brunch-and-gossip friends. You don’t need one person to do it all.
Reframe the narrative. When people don’t respond, don’t go straight to “I’m boring.” Try “They’re busy,” or even better: “They’re not my people.” That shift alone will save you a lot of pain.
Start with yourself. This sounds cliché, but hear me out: go do the nerdy shit alone. Go to the movie solo. Hit up the game shop solo. Bring your own damn self on the adventure. Because when you stop waiting for permission, you’ll start attracting people who see your spark and want to join in. Nothing’s hotter than someone who’s already having fun on their own terms.
You will always feel lonely if you’re waiting for other people to fix it for you. Connection takes effort, vulnerability, and risk. Sometimes you’ll reach out, and people won’t show up. That will sting. But it doesn’t mean you stop trying. It just means you keep trying elsewhere, with people who are capable of showing up.
And listen: you’re allowed to be sad about this. You’re allowed to be pissed off, to cry into your pillow, to scream into the void that no one ever fucking calls you first. Let it out. But don’t stay there. Don’t let loneliness calcify into self-loathing. Because the moment you start believing you’re unlovable, you start living like you are, and then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Loneliness isn’t a verdict, it’s a signal. It’s your body and mind telling you, “Hey, we need something we’re not getting.” So instead of taking it as proof that you’re broken, take it as motivation to go find it. Build a life where your interests, your weirdness, your passions are front and centre. Invite people into that. And the ones who don’t show up? Fuck ’em. You don’t need scraps from people who can’t even see your worth.
You’re not an afterthought. You’re just in the wrong room. Time to find a better one.
Mahal kita,
Tita Slut
