Proxies

A note! This post is sort of tangentially connected to the previous one, so if you can't remember it, I recommend a review. If you hated that one, "I am so very sorry."

Another note! I say "you" a lot here. I mean "one," the hypothetical you. I just didn't want to use the term "one," because it gets annoying.

I talked previously about the existence of people's screens of privacy, both at the individual and the group level, the little bubbles of isolation we construct around ourselves instinctively. Today I thought I'd explore one specific way we do this, a mechanism we use.

I think everyone knows that their membrane of privacy is selectively permeable; certain people are allowed access and others are shut off. That's just part of how people work, and nothing to really be ashamed of. After all, not every person you meet becomes a lifelong friend. However, a lot of people experience feelings of discomfort when they have to close their shield off to someone. Some of these are based in guilt or fear that you've hurt someone's feelings. Some are the manifestation of insecurity about your own judgment; after all, who are you to just dismiss anyone else? The source is less important for this post than the steps we take.

As I'm sure you know, feelings of guilt usually manifest as anger or compulsion, or something other than a feeling of guilt per se, because of the mind's tendency to repress the guilt itself. It's a process called projection, where a feeling is disguised and converted into something else, fooling even the person who feels it. The same can be said for the other forms of discomfort as well. In the social setting, this sort of action occurs any time you feel bad about closing your shield off to someone. The effect is something I decided to call social proxies.

A proxy, as the definition has it, is an agent or substitute authorized to act on another's behalf. Assassins are the grim example, where they are hired for "murder by proxy." Their employer is still guilty of the crime, though the assassin acts as a middleman. Less unpleasantly, sending someone to class for you to take notes is an example of proxy action; it's the action you would have taken, performed by someone or something else.

Social proxies are a little different. They're usually not a person, but some mental or physical thing onto which you place the blame for your discomfort. The example that springs immediately to mind is a businessperson's receptionist, whose job it is to filter calls and appointments before they reach their boss. Say the businessperson is intentionally avoiding someone and has the secretary screen all their calls. In the event of a confrontation between these two people, the businessperson has an out in the form of their secretary: "I never got your calls! My receptionist must have messed it up. Sorry!"

On a more casual level, people use a diverse array of things as excuses for the Cold Shoulder. Homework has a due date coming up, you've been suddenly struck with a feeling of malaise, "Facebook chat is so. Weird!", and so on. You just don't want to tell a person straight-up, "Yeah, not really interested in talking to you, so much. At all." So naturally, you find some other mechanism to excuse the screening; your phone died, you just like sitting at different places each day, whatever it is.

Now, importantly, I want to make it very clear that the idea here is not to make you feel guilty about the ways in which you wall people off. Quite the opposite. This behavior is totally normal and natural! Everyone does it, because everyone wants to be polite, or at least subtle about dismissal and such things. I just wanted to remind you that everybody does this, and you're totally normal for doing it. The main point, however, is to bring it to your attention so that you're aware of it. If you shut people out more than you feel you should, or anything like that, awareness of this little trick we use is more than half the battle.

TL;DR It's rude to tell people to go away, but try to resist the urge to prevaricate and lead them on.