Defaulting to this way of being in the world made me feel fernlike. I pictured myself like a time-lapsed recording taken in a forest. In the sped-up footage, we botany enthusiasts can see me reflexively extending myself out to the world, stretching as far as I can to touch it, then curling tightly back in on myself. Over and over and over.

Both tendencies—to open myself to others and to hide the whole of me from them—were, for much of my life, expressed in the extreme, sometimes simultaneously. I found that gulping back the things I really wanted to say, and learning to ride the ebb of whatever conversation someone else wanted to have instead, dramatically reduced the likelihood that I would lose or disappoint them. I had figured out a way to enjoy people’s company while keeping my risk of heartbreak low. They, in turn, agreed to listen to me never, ever talk about anything but their interests, aspirations, politics, and creative endeavors. I’m disappointed in myself, reading this back right now. I really hope you don’t follow in my footsteps, because you are radiant and valid all by yourself, and if you knew how true that was, you’d be even more powerful than you already are. You would be a force to be reckoned with.

Because here’s the alternative: You can try to be someone’s dreamgirl, but this will require you to be secretive, calculating, and lonesome. Doesn’t that sound like a fun little trade-off? Or does it sound like a great way to architect a treacherous, self-punishing alienation-station of a life? If you picked the second option, you are correct—it is. And this bargain doesn’t even get you a lasting relationship. There will inevitably come a point when you can’t keep up the gambit anymore and the whole thing goes to pieces—either because you’re scared of revealing yourself and flee (this is what I always did), or because at some point, late in the game, YOU show up in the relationship, and your partner goes, “I’m sorry, have we met?”

When I was able to pull it off, being Craig’s dream date to Burger King earned me high accolades. Has anyone ever made you feel like the exception to every rule? My first boyfriend was great at that (as were all of his successors, but we’ll get to that in a little). We can call this guy Roger. Rog was VERY into chewing on his thoughts with his mouth open. Contrary to every impulse I’ve ever had, there is actually nothing wrong with sharing the things that you love with a person that you love, but Roger seemed never to have learned that sharing involves reciprocity; he preferred to structure our conversations as lists of books he liked. That was cool by me, since I got to be around someone who told me I was smart and had “really good taste” in that way that people say it where you know the sentence ends “…because it’s exactly like mine.” In retrospect, it seems like he thought I was captivating because, HUH, how NOVEL, a GIRL can like the things that I like, except she has boobs?

Some people, instead of wanting you to reflect their image back to them, want the total opposite. They see your personhood as accessibly wild ’n’ wacky and they suspect it might help them look at their own lives through an all-new magical/sexy/fancy-free kaleidoscope and become inspired as they never have been before. Such people appreciate you, but with a wink and a flourish, like they’re doing a self-congratulatory magic trick. They want to be applauded for having the evolved sensibilities to think a total weirdo like you is hot: Sure, you’re vibrant and gorgeous and perfect and everything, but who else could be open enough to see that? They’re doing you a favor by wanting to be around you! But saving you from the caustic rejection of the rest of society (that place is the WORST, isn’t it?) was, they assure you, worth it: Truly, it’s you who hath rescued them from the humdrum routines they once shuffled through, when they were not yet INSPIRED by the thrilling, let’s-be-honest-kind-of-unhinged abandon you’ve whirlwinded into their lives. They’ve finally found you. Hooray! Everyone is saved and gets matching tattoos. And then gets the hell away from me forever, you dangerous, reductive creeps.

What if, whenever someone went to pay you a compliment, what you heard was “You’re weird”? What if hearing that were your exact fear, and you were having it reinforced on the regular? How would you feel then, besides delusional for ever having thought someone might just want to hang out with you because you find each other mutually pleasant and rad, rather than because you’re some kind of offbeat mode of deliverance from whatever ennui they felt about the way they live their life? You’re not a person to them, you’re a vehicle: an alien spacecraft that they’d like to drive as far away from their pre-you lives as possible. Who needs society when you can sublimate all your insecurities, hopes, and romantic/artistic/sexual idiosyncrasies into a dreamgirl? Man, are you ever special. Just…you’re almost crazy, aren’t you? (It is not an accident that the phrase Manic Pixie Dream Girl includes a word commonly used to refer to mental illness. So quirky!)

All the comments I complained about earlier—”You’re special/unique/whatever”—are, on their own, far from invectives. Remarks about a person’s beautiful singularity can be lovely when backed by the right intentions. Recently, I was talking to a guy with whom I have just about zero in common. I’m lowkey crushed out on him regardless, and vice versa. In a casual Gchat about our days, I told him about some interests of mine that had nothing to do with him—a band I’m in, a community dinner I volunteered at. “You are so perfect,” he replied. In the past, comments like that have come off like a threat: CONTINUE TO BE IDEAL, OR I’M OUTTA HERE. But this guy wasn’t threatening me or thanking me for CHANGING HIS LIFE, he was just saying he thought I was cool! I was touched instead of horrified because his words felt sincere.

That’s the deciding factor: Is someone making GRAND PRONOUNCEMENTS about you that are really, at their heart, about themselves? Here’s a simple test to help you spot a phony compliment of this type: Did it come right before or after a phrase like “You’re the only person that gets me” or “I thought girls like you didn’t exist”? Turn tail: This person is likely saying, “Our relationship is predicated on your willingness to make me happy exactly as I want to be made happy, because I’m insecure.” They’re saying that you’re special because of how you make them feel, not because of how you are. While it’s great to have both, the latter is way more important, and, alone, the former isn’t enough to sustain a relationship.