When I started dating Dan, a 78-year-old widowed university professor, I noticed his congeniality. He’d say “hi” to everyone we’d meet, then move to “where are you from?” and “what school did you go to?”
Then he’d bounce out of the conversation — sometimes diverting to talk about himself, sometimes changing topics.
“You’re like a rock that skips over the water but never sinks,” I said to him early in our seven-year relationship. I had watched his conversation style so many times, I realized he wasn’t really paying attention to what the other person was saying. Or, if he was, he cut off a chance for deeper conversation by changing the subject.
His intentions were good — but his behavior limited the closeness of his relationships. By the time he met me, he realized how much this behavior had cost him.
You can Google my boyfriend’s name — Dan Fogel — and find a story he wrote for the HuffPost in 2023. The headline: “My wife of 45 years died. I thought I truly knew her — until I discovered her journals.”
In his essay, he describes how his beautiful and soft-spoken Sue and he had raised three daughters and built a long and loving marriage — but he didn’t really know her deepest feelings, because he never asked her, and she never offered.
After she died, he found her journals. In one, Sue had written: “I think I hate him.” Of course, she didn’t hate him — she was probably just mad because he had not paid attention. She might have been mad at herself too because she had not spoken up about her own needs.
His story is a “cautionary tale,” Dan says. He and Sue chose to “keep the peace” rather than discuss their deepest and most difficult thoughts and dreams. Now it was too late.
Within two days of publication, 3 million people had read Dan’s story. Hundreds of readers emailed him, including men who realized they did the same thing and had decided to really listen to their wives.
Building deep connections takes time and tools, and it’s scary because we risk rejection if we open up about our feelings. But without it, we risk much more.
The solution for isolation is to get outside, interact with other people and put down your phone. But the solution for loneliness is different. Loneliness is that feeling of “nobody knows me” — it’s the isolation of the soul that comes from unmet needs.
It happens when we’re afraid to show our true selves to the world, and when we can’t communicate in meaningful ways.
Pulling yourself out of loneliness is a skill that can be practiced and learned. If you want to feel less lonely, ask yourself these three questions: