Why I Rarely Say Hi First (Even If I’m Thinking About You Constantly)

I can be in a room full of people I love, admire, or desperately want to connect with… and still have no clue how to start a conversation.

Even when I want to.
Even when I’ve been replaying imaginary versions of that conversation in my head all week.
Even when I have something I deeply want to share.

That’s the reality of a neurodivergent trait I’ve only recently come to understand: lack of social initiation.

I know. It sounds like something out of a robot manual. Like I’m a protocol droid whose wiring got scrambled by an over-eager Wookiee. But what it really means is this: I struggle with starting social interactions. The wanting is there. The words just get stuck.

I’ve lived most of my life assuming people saw me as cold, shy, or disinterested. Maybe even rude. The truth is often the opposite—I care deeply. Too deeply sometimes. So deeply that my brain short-circuits at the exact moment I want to reach out.

It’s a weird and frustrating paradox:

💬 I don’t say hi, but I miss you.
📱 I don’t reply, but I read your message three times and thought about responding fifteen more.
🧠 I don’t ask to hang out, but I’ve already rehearsed what I’ll say in the imaginary version of our perfect afternoon.
🌀 I blink, and somehow it’s been three months since I last checked in, even though you were on my mind yesterday.

Sometimes I freeze up in person too. I’ll see you across the street and panic like I’ve forgotten how basic greetings work. Not because I don’t care. But because my brain gets flooded with thoughts like:

"What if I say the wrong thing?"
"What if they’re busy?"
"What if I’m being annoying?"
"What if I misread everything and we’re not actually friends?"

(Yes, it's exhausting. No, I don’t know how to turn it off.)

Even writing emails or texts can feel like climbing a mountain. I’ve literally assigned my dog Frio the role of emotional support companion during online meetings. He doesn’t offer much feedback, but he’s very good at flopping beside me while I try to compose something that doesn’t sound weird, pushy, or robotic.

The wildest part? This happens even with people I love deeply. I remember taking hours to build up the courage to ask my parents something. I sometimes still struggle to initiate conversations with Emily, despite living with her for almost two decades. It’s exhausting for me, and for the people I care about.

I know this might sound strange, especially if you’re neurotypical or socially intuitive. But if you’ve ever been on the other end of my silence or delay, please know: it’s not because I don’t like you. It’s not because I’ve forgotten you. And it’s definitely not because I don’t want to talk.

It’s just that sometimes, initiating a simple “hi” feels like trying to open a can of soup and realizing it’s an Andy Warhol painting.

So if I don’t message first, or I vanish for a while, or I blank in person—please don’t take it as rejection. You’re always welcome to say hi first. I’ll probably light up like a Christmas tree and talk your ear off with way more unsolicited history on He-Man, Monkey Island, or WrestleMania III than you ever bargained for.

Unless I blank out mid-sentence or try to tell you fifty stories at once.
Which, let’s be honest, happens too.

But that’s a different post.