We’ve all done it: some variant of the “does he like me” web search. It always seems innocent enough at first. You’re just curious. You just want to know whether the cute guy in your morning lecture likes you because he says your name a lot. You think maybe if you could only find a way to accurately describe to Google his face when he looked you that other day in class, you’d know for sure what he was thinking.
I could take a less radical approach to relationship Googling and preface anything to come with a side note that the occasional relationship Google is helpful. But I will not, because I, a voracious, hungry consumer of information, have been obsessively Googling my relationships, crushes, and every boy-man in between since eighth grade.
Googling was the staple of my first relationship, and it went from being a helpful, occasionally illuminating guide, to a black hole where even the advice I should have listened to, and all the other versions of it, along with the less-good, more insecurity-kindling advice all blurred together.
Google, with its “answers” and hypotheticals became an alternate reality and an instinct distorter.
If you find yourself asking, or tempted to ask Google the same 1000 permutations of one question, stop for a minute. As obvious as it sounds, ask yourself the question first. If a guy’s feelings for you are so mystifying that you have to treat him like an obscure thesis topic, they aren’t worth the research, or even any of your thoughts at all.
The question itself is your answer already. I Googled whether I should break up with my most recent boyfriend every couple of weeks for the last eight months of our relationship. Google said I should break it off. It said I should buy him more gifts. It said I should take a break. It said I shouldn’t be Googling it. Of course I read every perspective and didn’t listen to any of them.
We could have broken up after three months instead of nearly a year had I realized that being with someone you can easily imagine yourself without, just isn’t worth it. These are our instincts.
If you caught yourself seeking approval for every single movement you made and word you said, wouldn’t that be a bit problematic? Wouldn’t it be a tremendous leap backwards to lose your own voice? Wouldn’t it become, eventually, impossible to find and consult that most knowledgeable, wise inner voice, as your mind slowly turned into a echo chamber of opinions and alternatives?
Next time the boy-man in your lecture hall smiles at you, let it just be a smile. It might take some time and focus to train your first, natural instinct when you see that smile to come back through. You might want to Google it first, before you’ve resisted over and over and learned to enjoy just the smile, just the kind words, just your name, but resist. I promise a smile back, and the energy you put into the rest of the lecture will have much healthier returns than any exhaustive, draining few hours spent rehashing the moment inside a search engine.