I’m Not Looking for Attention. I’m Looking for Intention.
Someone recently told me that some of my content can come across as clingy or desperate. And I’ve thought about that a lot, because yes, I write about loneliness. I write about wanting people in my life. I write about friendship, relationships, crushes, rejection, vulnerability, and wanting someone to talk to.
But I’m not desperate for attention.
What I’m looking for is intention.
There’s a difference.
I don’t need somebody texting me every day or being available all the time. I don’t need instant replies or constant contact. People have jobs, kids, energy levels, stress, and sometimes a text just… gets forgotten. I get that.
What I’m trying to understand is whether there’s an intentional effort to be in each other’s lives, or whether we just sort of exist in the same orbit by convenience.
Because friendship, to me, requires some intention.
Maybe you don’t text much, but every so often you send something because it reminded you of me.
Maybe you’re busy and we only hang out once in a while.
Maybe you disappear for a bit and come back with, “Sorry, I genuinely forgot to reply.”
Maybe you’re not great at initiating, but you say, “Keep inviting me, I can’t always make it, but I do like it.”
I can work with all of that.
What I struggle with is when there’s nothing on the other side for long stretches, and I’m left guessing what anything means.
Because if I stop reaching out and we never speak again, or I stop inviting and we never see each other again, I eventually have to ask myself what I’m actually maintaining.
And that’s not me being desperate.
That’s me trying to understand whether I’m in a friendship or just doing solo maintenance on one.
When I care about someone, I show up. If you’re at my place and you’re hungry, I’ll offer you food. If you need a ride, I’ll probably be halfway out the door before I’ve fully thought it through. That’s just how I’m wired.
So for me, friendship is less about constant contact and more about mutual consideration. It’s knowing there’s some level of “you exist in my world, and I exist in yours.”
And because I care like that, I don’t want to confuse someone being polite with someone actually wanting me around.
I’d genuinely rather someone say, “Hey, I’m not really in a social season right now,” than leave me guessing for months.
I’d rather someone say, “I like you, but I’m not really looking for much outside of occasional catch-ups,” than have me keep trying to build something that isn’t being built on the other side.
That might sting a little.
But I can handle sting.
What I don’t do well with is ambiguity.
Because I’m willing to put effort into people I care about. I’m willing to work around schedules, communication styles, life chaos, all of it. I understand people have different capacities at different times.
I can meet people where they are.
But at some point, there has to be some movement back toward me too.
It doesn’t have to be perfect.
Just… something.
And if I’m unsure, I’ll sometimes ask.
“Am I texting too much?”
“Do you actually like me inviting you places?”
“Do you want me to keep reaching out?”
“Are we actually friends in a way that exists outside of circumstance?”
Those questions aren’t me begging for reassurance.
They’re me trying to calibrate.
I’m just trying to figure out where I fit, so I don’t accidentally turn a friendship into a one-person performance art piece titled “He Probably Doesn’t Want This Text Either.”
If the answer is, “Hey, not really,” I’ll respect that and step back.
Seriously.
I’m not interested in forcing myself into anyone’s life or ignoring boundaries. I’m not chasing people out of fear of being alone.
If you don’t want me there, I’ll leave.
But if you do, I need something—eventually—to reflect that.
And maybe that’s part of why I write about this stuff.
Yes, I’m lonely sometimes.
I’m 38, I’m single, and I’ve moved around enough that I don’t have that long, rooted social circle some people build over decades in one place.
I know how to meet people. I can walk into a room, talk, joke, connect on a surface level. I can make acquaintances pretty easily.
That’s not the hard part.
What I miss is depth.
I’m tired of relationships that only exist because of proximity or convenience.
I don’t want a hundred “how are you?” interactions that never turn into anything more.
I want a few people who actually know how I am.
There’s a difference between interaction and connection.
I have plenty of interaction.
What I want more of is connection.
People to share life with in small ways. Dinner sometimes. Random memes. A call now and then. Someone who sees something and thinks, “I should send this to them.” Someone who occasionally wonders what I’m up to without it needing a calendar reminder.
I’m not looking for one person to fill everything. Not a friend, not a partner, not anything like that.
People aren’t meant to be everything to each other.
I just want a life that feels shared in places.
And yes, I can do things alone. I do. I can go places, eat out, explore, and have a perfectly good time.
But sometimes I’m just tired of the quiet drive home.
Sometimes I want the passenger seat to have a story attached to it.
Sometimes I want someone else to remember the night too.
That’s loneliness.
Not desperation.
And when I write about it, I’m not always asking for anything to be fixed. Writing is just how I process things. It’s how I make sense of what I’m feeling in real time.
Sometimes it’s loneliness. Sometimes it’s care. Sometimes it’s a crush that turns into a paragraph I didn’t expect to write. Sometimes it’s just me trying to understand my own head.
These are moments, not a full biography.
And I don’t think those moments need to be hidden just because vulnerability can be uncomfortable.
I don’t think wanting people in your life is pathetic.
I don’t think wanting friendship is clingy.
I don’t think asking where you stand is unreasonable.
Sometimes you just want to know whether you’re building something together, or whether you’re the only one still holding a brick and wondering if construction was ever actually approved.
Because I can make room for people.
I can show up.
I can care.
I can be consistent.
But I can’t be someone’s friend alone.
And I’m not going to keep knocking on a door forever just because someone once said, “Yeah, it’s open.”
At some point, it has to actually open.
I’m not looking for constant attention.
I’m looking for intention.
I don’t need to be chosen every day.
I just need the friendship to be chosen sometimes too.
And honestly… I’m not even asking for a dramatic gesture. A meme every now and then would probably do it. I’m not that hard to please.
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