When was the last time a #relatable post made it to your social media feed? Leading the way with honesty (and none of the shame I should presumably be feeling for my obvious lack of sophistication), I’d say it was less than 15 minutes ago. In true 21st-century adult, I was scrolling through videos while on the loo and there it was again, the #relatable hashtag, followed by thousands of likes and even more views.
What was it again? I honestly can’t remember. Something about “when I see a girl who [insert the most mundane thing a human being can do and stare meaningfully into the camera]“. Needless to say, I didn’t find it relatable. However, the video resonated with thousands of enthusiastic likes who would disagree wholeheartedly with me. It’s not that the message was lacking in any way. I simply wasn’t the intended target audience.
Side note: As a fervent K-drama watcher and active member of a community, I find myself frequently describing dramas I don’t enjoy as “I’m not the target audience”. It’s giving me a polite way of saying I dislike something everyone else is raving about. A lifesaver in a world of quickly formed judgements.
Anyway, back to my social media feed if you please. The #relatable video was precisely 0% relatable to me. I hear you: Those things happen. Why should I make a mountain out of a proverbial molehilly video? Well, it’s simple: Because relatability, or the ability to be relatable, is something that is at the core of my everyday experience, not just as a writer but as a human being too.
What Does It Mean To Be #Relatable?
From where I stand, #relatable is the bridge that builds a connection between you and your audience, and by audience I mean whoever you happen to be talking, whether a reader devouring (hopefully) your stories or the stylist doing your hair, or even the person watching your videos on social media.
To me, the matter of the problem is that being relatable is tough. As it happens, my brain doesn’t seem to walk in the right direction; it constantly goes against the current. If the current is pointing towards relatability, my brain spends most of its time swimming in the other direction.
And, as the current of relatability escapes me, the chance of establishing a connection disappears. When the majority surfs on the relatable wave, I’m confined to the loneliness of the unrelatable puddle.
A Personal Unrelatable Nightmare
Recently, I was trying to explain the extend of the relatability issue to someone. It felt like a conversation where both interlocutors speak a different foreign language with no way of translating. The worlds of the #relatable and the one of the #unrelatable do not meet easily.
There I was explaining that I find tough to handle small talk, precisely because small talks are the products of comforting relatability. They are designed as an exchange of relatable words, like pearls you string together to create a connection. In an ideal world, I would instantly know which pearls to add to the conversation-bracelet we’re building. But I have not a clue. I can try and fake it for a little while and come up with pearls that are similar in shine and size to yours. But ultimately, making my pearls up on the go is freaking exhausting. I run out of energy, and while you may think the exchange of mundane pleasantries have brought us closer, it has the opposite effect to me.
Unless you’ve been in the #unrelatable clan too, you couldn’t possibly imagine the sheer amount of energy it takes to build relatable pearls. Yet, what else is there to do when I don’t have the small talk pearls?
The person considered briefly – probably wondering my exact level of insanity (hint: It’s more than what you could think of, lady) – before stating that I could simply talk about what I’m interested in.
Sure, I could. I would love to. I don’t have small talk pearls: I have hyperfixation boulders. They are heavy, and if you’re not prepared to receive them, they may knock you off your path (and off any path that you were hoping the conversation would take). But I much prefer starting the conversation and building connection by throwing my boulders at you. It may seem aggressive, but I promise you, that I find their substance more comforting than the light pearls.
It was obvious we were talking at each other without connecting. Yet, she still tried to hit the relatable track.
“It’s a horrible weather,” she started, pointing at the window.
I knew what the weather was like. I had just walked through town to my appointment with her. The weather was cold, but nothing out of the ordinary for the season. The sky was grey and low. I loved it. But I figured that wasn’t the response she was expecting. So, I passed her a pearl.
“Yes, indeed,” I said, super excitedly because I knew the right answer.
It would have been perfect if I had carried on the conversation. But I didn’t know what else to add. We both had seen the weather. I assumed she knew it was fairly normal for the season, so she probably didn’t need me telling her that. I gathered by the huge coat thrown over a chair that she also knew how to avoid feeling cold, so I didn’t really need to mention it either. There was an awkward pause because I could see she was expecting more pearls from me but I couldn’t figure out which ones her bracelet needed.
“It’s nearly Christmas,” she said.
Oh… I hate Christmas with a passion, but this is a story for another day. Anyway, I managed to learn one thing from years of failed practice: redirect the conversation to people. This means I don’t have to exhaust myself making up suitable pearls on the spot.
“What do you like about Christmas?” I asked.
And then I saved myself of having to make more pearls and her of trying to handle my boulders. At the end of the appointment, she was happy about the conversation she thought we had while I hadn’t managed to step out of my puddle of unrelatability once, and I was happy that at least I hadn’t completely scared her off.
Where Am I Going With This?
This is a very good question. I wouldn’t say I have an answer for it. But I would say this:
Both the relatable and unrelatable worlds revolve around shared experiences or interests. Besides, I may stand in a puddle of unrelatability, but there are many more puddles like mine around. But what are a few puddles against a big relatable wave?
The main reason why I struggle to connect with the wave is my experience, which is often different from the relatable expectations. Take the lady hoping to connect with the weather chat. Her horrible weather is one of my favourite weathers; we have different experiences. She was expecting me to share her thoughts and experience because when you surf the relatable wave, you can’t even imagine an universe outside the wave.
Similarly, when you’re in a puddle, you see the wave, but you can never get to it.
That being said, the puddle side of life is not so bad.
I might just try and work hard on social media and get the #unrelatable hashtag trending for all the lone puddle standers like me!
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