Most of us will experience periods of solitude at some point. But beige furnishings and self-care rituals are not the answer
I have met quite a few influencers over the years and, to be frank, they’ve mostly been a strange bunch. I remember meeting one at a party a while ago, she was running around (literally) with a phone and a bunch of cables. “I don’t have data!” she screamed. “Oh hello?” I said, confused. “And I need a plug!” she declared. And then she screamed again, and promptly attached her phone to the nearest plug socket, which was stationed by her ankle. There she sat, hunched on the floor, gripping the phone and tapping it furiously.
I am only talking about my experiences here, and my sample may be wildly unrepresentative, but I have noticed patterns: they come across as twitchy and manic; they don’t make eye contact; and they seem to struggle to maintain the kind of extended volley of question-and-answer responses, shared anecdotes, or jokes, that a normal conversation requires. They basically radiate social anxiety.
Rachel Connolly is a writer and the author of the novel Lazy City
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