sorry//thank you

I'm a liar.

Last week, a man scared me.

I thanked him.

Classic.

No caption needed. Via Billy Murphy Art.

---

It all went down as Delilah, my beloved pup, and I were wrapping up our final long walk of the day. We’d strolled past this guy earlier, but as we turned to head home, he suddenly barreled towards us. My heart raced, and I tightened my grip on Delilah's leash, hoping my anxiety would transfer. Hoping she'd bulk up and go full gremlin, scaring him off. She didn’t — my traitor.

“Hey! Hey, you! Can I have your number?” the man shouted as he approached.

“What?” I mumbled, my brain scrambling to compute.

“Can I have your number?” he persisted.

“Uh...no. I don't think so.” Then, I heard myself add, “But thank you,” complete with a grossly insincere smile.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“I’m sure. Thanks again,” I replied, already power-walking away as fast as I could manage without full-on sprinting.

I don’t run. Even when I should.

///

Despite my intro, this piece isn't about that man. In the days since I've had time to reflect on the experience. I recognize the fear I felt, and how it was amplified by our isolated location near the woods. I’ve wrestled with anger at myself for being caught off guard, for not keeping “my head on a swivel” as Dad taught, for failing to live up to the badass version of myself I’d rehearsed in countless mental reenactments. For wavering instead of shouting “BACK THE FUCK UP!”

But rather than dwell on this one incident, I want to use it as a springboard to explore a more pervasive pattern in my life – the endless stream of insincere apologies and forced gratitude I find myself doling out on the regular.

We’ve all been there. You bump into an old acquaintance and chirp, “It’s so good to see you!” while secretly replaying that time they mocked your Lunchables in 5th grade. Or you slam the car door too hard and instinctively utter a sheepish “Sorryyyy!” to...well, no one in particular.

These minor, seemingly harmless untruths are just part of being functional members of society. We learn these reflexive responses from a young age – a way to grease the wheels of social interaction and avoid any potential awkwardness or conflict. And hey, most of the time it works! These little white lies slip by unnoticed, right?

But when you tally up the sheer volume of daily deceptions, it starts to feel a bit...icky. How many times have you mumbled “I’m fine” when you're anything but? Or muttered “my bad” after someone bumps into you?¹

So what if we ripped off this polite veneer and examined our compulsion to be unfailingly agreeable? Let’s circle back to that encounter with Mr. Persistent. (Yes, I know I said I wouldn't. Oops, there's another fib.)

In that moment, I was caught in a classic clash between my ingrained people-pleasing tendencies and my fight-or-flight instincts. Part of me couldn’t bear the thought of being rude, even to this unwelcome admirer. It’s like I have “BE NICE” tattooed on my frontal cortex.

But simultaneously, alarm bells were blaring. I’ve been conditioned to be constantly vigilant, especially when alone. In that split second, my brain was running threat assessments like a supercomputer.

So there I was, tightrope walking between self-preservation and social niceties. I figured if I played along, seeming flattered by his attention, he might just let the rejection slide without incident.

It was honesty and authenticity taking a backseat to survival instincts and societal expectations. I hate it, but that’s the reality we're dealing with.

In an ideal world, I’d have shut him down without fear of repercussions. But in this world, sometimes you have to bury a bit of yourself and bite your tongue to stay safe.

And this isn’t a one-time thing. This habit of dishing out insincere apologies and gratitude isn't just for scary moments. It’s an hourly occurrence. Whether I’m dealing with strangers or loved ones, I’m constantly putting on an Oscar-worthy performance as the ideal, affable version of myself.

It’s a dance we’re all doing in different magnitudes, isn’t it? This constant choreography of words, expressions, and demeanors to fit society’s mold of the perfect, put-together person. Because let’s face it, the alternative is just so...messy. Uncomfortable. And God forbid we come across as socially inept.

And for many people, the compulsion to lie, to smile when they’re hurting, or to express gratitude in the face of mistreatment isn't just about social awkwardness – it is a matter of survival.

So we swallow our frustrations like bitter pills, plaster on grins so wide they’d make the Joker jealous, and deliver our lines with the precision of seasoned actors. We apologize for breathing too loudly, shower strangers with gratitude they haven’t earned and navigate social interactions like we’re tiptoeing through a minefield. All in the name of survival in this complex social jungle we call life.

But here’s the $64,000 question: At what cost?

Sure, these little white lies seem harmless in the moment. A social Band-Aid here, a verbal get-out-of-jail-free card there. But what happens when we zoom out and look at the big picture? What’s the cumulative impact on our relationships when we’re constantly serving up a watered-down version of ourselves? How does our self-perception warp when we’re forever prioritizing others’ comfort over our own?

I’m not saying we should all become brutally honest overnight. I’m much too sensitive for that. But maybe it's time we took a harder look at this compulsion to people-please. To examine why we're so quick to sacrifice our genuine selves.

So who’s ready to join me on this journey of introspection? To dive headfirst into the murky waters of our own psyches and fish out some uncomfortable truths? It might get sticky, it might get awkward, but hey – at least it’ll be real. And in a world drowning in fakery and forced politeness, maybe that’s exactly what we need.

And as we dive into this exploration, may we see that the underlying desire for genuine connection — to be seen in all our beautiful, cringy glory — is universal.

Who’s with me? (And no, you can't just say yes to be polite. That’s kind of the whole point here.)

PS — While writing and editing this piece, I was playing whack-a-mole with a little troll that inhabits my mind. She begged me to write something else, to send this straight to the shredder: “It’s going to come across as complainy.” “They’re going to think you’re overdramatic and the most insincere.” “Subscribers will drop like flies.” (I shuddered.)

Any of these thoughts could be true. Odds are at least one of them is. But I hit publish because…well, it’s the point of this damn essay.

And just like the best parts of me, this piece is frank and tongue-in-cheek!

Drop a comment and tell me about the little lies you tell!

1. Shout out to my friend

Eileen Dougharty

, who's cracked the code on unnecessary apologies. When someone bumps into her, she doesn't default to a meek "sorry." Instead, she hits them with a cheeky "whoops!" or my personal favorite, "If you want to dance, just ask nicely!" She's saving her "sorrys" for moments that actually deserve them. Eileen, you're not just a star – you're a certified sorry-slaying genius.