I walk into the gym and this remix is playing. I don't know what it is, but it's giving early 2000s drama in the best way. As I scan in, I ask the girl at the desk, "Is that a Britney remix? I've never heard this one!"

She shrugs. "It's just the playlist they put on, I don't know." She doesn't even look up to catch my eye. It's not like I asked for her autograph. I was just a little curious about the damn song.

Cool cool cool.

Just like that, any possible connection between me and this stranger is dead.

Here is what I wish she had said.

Something tiny. Anything. "I think it's a remix of Toxic, right?" or even "Haha, I wonder that every time." Not because I needed a friend right there and then. Not because I wanted her phone number. Just because, why not?

We're all stuck in this loop.

Half the time we're making jokes about how we'd rather be left alone forever. The other half we're writing long essays about the loneliness epidemic.

We can't keep doing both.

We say we want connection, but we keep treating first contact like a threat instead of a chance. A moment to protect ourselves instead of a moment to open something.

So here's the rule:

Treat first contact as a chance to connect.

That's it.

You don't need to go all in. You don't have to swap numbers or trauma bond in the produce aisle. You just respond. Smile, nod, say "Right?" or "I wondered that too." Anything.

And if that feels good and natural, move it one step forward. Ask their name. Ask one tiny, real, curiosity-driven question. Extend a crumb of an invitation, for anything.

You'll be the one to decide how far it goes. You are not locked in. You are not married. You are just building a moment.

Because if we want to have a real life, with people who know us, who show up for us, who make things feel less lonely when we're old or overwhelmed or just not okay, then we have to start building that life.

Now.

And we do it one ping at a time.

So let's talk practice.

This doesn't mean you suddenly become the mayor of every room you walk into. It is not about being smooth or charming or "networking." It is about trying. Once. Just once. Per interaction.

If someone comments on your dog, respond with more than just "yeah." Say, "He's on his apology tour today," or "Want him? He's free." Something human. Something that makes them feel like they weren't just talking into the void. That is a connection. That is enough.

If you're checking out at the grocery store and the cashier's nails are cool, tell her. Then go just a little further. "Did you get them done anywhere around here?" You don't have to become her bestie. You just made a tiny pocket for something, anything. That's the point.

At the gym, in class, in line for coffee, in an elevator. There is always a moment. A ping. You just have to respond. Not because it will always go somewhere, but because it might. And even if it doesn't, you showed up fully in the world. You reminded someone else that we're all real people, if only for a second. That counts, especially these days.

It is just practice. For now, for later, for the kind of life where you don't always feel so alone. You build it one interaction at a time.

Otherwise, loneliness sneaks up on you. It starts quietly: you stop chatting with strangers, skip the little conversations, avoid small talk even when it can be about anything you like. One day you look up and realize there is no one to call. No emergency contact. No one who would notice if you went missing. You know those stories about people who die alone in their home and aren't found until the smell hits the hallway of their building and neighbors start to complain? Those stories are not just tragic; they are reminders. That kind of isolation doesn't come out of thin air. It happens slowly, to regular people who didn't realize they had to build a world around them until it was too late.

Here is the flip side: that tiny interaction could lead somewhere. You never know who you're talking to.

* That cashier with the cool nails might be the one who sends you to the best salon you’ve ever been to.

* That too chatty airplane seat neighbor might be the exact person to ask when you're hunting for a reliable handyman.

* That older woman who asked about your dog might have season tickets to musicals and an extra seat she is always trying to give away.

* That girl who looks younger than you might end up being your favorite weekly cafe hangout buddy.

None of it happens if you stay closed. None of it can.

The good stuff starts when you're open. When you let something, anything, begin.

And maybe you’re not lonely. Maybe you already have a group. You’ve got your people. That is amazing. But that doesn’t mean the work is over.

Wherever you are, at the gym, in a class, at a meetup, at your favorite coffee spot, there is almost always someone new standing just outside the circle. Not forcing anything. Just there. Maybe hoping there is space for them too.

You don’t have to adopt them. You don’t have to be best friends. You don't have to take them under your wing. But making room, being open, letting the edges of your circle stay a little soft instead of rigid and sealed shut, is how you make a difference. That is how you build a community, bit by bit.

“No new friends” is a fun little mantra, and a definite banger. But it is also a solid way to keep yourself stuck.

You never know who the next person you meet may be. You never know who clicks with your group in a way no one expected, who softens your edges, who hypes you up, who helps you grow as individuals.

We all have plenty of experience doing the other thing where we stay guarded and cooler than everyone else and do not open ourselves up for friendships. We are experts in this by now, all of us. If there were anyone to teach it to, we could all be teaching university classes on how to lose friends and alienate people. We all know how to shrink our circles so well. We all know how to say “f**k you” to curiosity. That is super cool of us all.

It has not been working.

It has not made us better, or happier, or more at ease.

So yeah. Smile. Ask the question. Follow the ping.

Like I said, treat every first contact as a chance to connect. That is the rule.

You do not have to be charming. Just respond. If it feels right, go one step further. Ask their name. Ask one real question. Offer something tiny.

Not every moment leads somewhere. But some do. And that is how it starts.

This was my third installment in my Friendship Project series, where I discuss the trials and tribulations of making new friends and keeping friends as an adult, especially one with neurodivergence/ADHD. You can go back to the others in the series by clicking the series name at the top of the page, or just stay tuned for the next part of this series. I want to make us all less lonely, once and for all. It’s about time, wouldn’t you say?

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit embrain.substack.com