I like to think of myself as a fairly chill person. Low drama. Easygoing. Go with the flow.

And yet… the amount of completely unnecessary thinking that goes on in my head about the smallest social moments is honestly impressive.

Take leaving.

Not leaving leaving. I mean that exact moment when a conversation has clearly run its course, the drinks are half-empty, the topics are circling back on themselves, and I’m sitting there thinking, Can I go now? Or do I need to pretend I’m still interested for another twenty minutes?

This usually happens when I’m meeting people I haven’t seen in ages. The kind of catch-ups you do out of courtesy, not connection. We’ve grown into different lives, different priorities, different versions of ourselves. The conversation dries up, and I find myself silently hoping someone says they need to leave. Or that my phone rings with a perfectly timed excuse. Or that the waiter asks if we want another drink and the other person says no so I can follow with an enthusiastic “same!”

It’s not even about them. It’s me. My introverted side kicks in and starts whispering, You’re bored. You’re uncomfortable. You’ve done enough. Go home. Age and life experience add another layer: Stop wasting time. You could be doing something better. Or nothing at all. Which is also better.

And yet, I stay. Overthinking the exit like it’s a diplomatic negotiation.

I overthink greetings too. Hug? Two kisses? A wave? I’m very Spanish by default, so the two kisses usually happen automatically. Hugs are reserved for my people. Waves are for acquaintances who haven’t quite earned physical access yet. With age, I’ve become much more aware of my personal space, and honestly, I enjoy keeping a little distance where it feels right.

Group chats are another arena of overthinking. I tend to stay quiet unless I genuinely have something useful to add. I’m perfectly happy letting others talk loudly, interrupt each other, and fight for airtime while I sip my drink and observe. People watching is, after all, one of my true passions.

Messages are no different. I rarely reply instantly, mostly because replying straight away invites an immediate response back, and I don’t always have the energy for a live conversation. I prefer replying later, intentionally, when I can actually sit down and focus. Sometimes I see a message, think “I’ll reply later,” and then forget entirely. Not out of malice. Just life. And also because I really don’t love WhatsApp.

Food is where I overthink the least. I trust myself here. I have a good knack for ordering, for myself and for others, and I love food. If a dish intrigues me, I’ll ask the waiter everything about it. Sharing dishes? Fine. Not sharing? Also fine. Desserts? I’ll try a bite if it’s cheesecake, carrot cake, or chocolate. Just don’t order anything with fruit in it when I’m around. My friends know this. This boy does not do fruit.

Then there’s presentation. I like dressing well. I make an effort. Sunglasses are on whenever appropriate, preferably my Ray-Ban Wayfarers. Jackets, however, are a problem. If a place doesn’t have a proper cloakroom and expects me to manage my coat at the table, that’s already a minus point. I don’t want to babysit a jacket while I eat.

Walking speed is another thing. I walk fast. Very fast. Slow walkers test my patience in ways I cannot explain. I’ll give it twenty or thirty seconds, then I’ll overtake and reclaim my rhythm, sometimes startling people in the process. I consider it a public service.

Being alone in public used to make me overthink more, but age and work cured that. Sitting alone at a café, a bar, or a restaurant now feels normal. There’s always something to do. Emails, messages, photos, videos, people watching. Existing quietly has become a skill I genuinely enjoy.

If I’m honest, I overthink these things because I grew up being taught to be the “good” kid. Don’t upset anyone. Don’t disagree. Don’t give people a reason to dislike you. Over time, that turned into agreeing too much, explaining too much, and caring far too much about how others might perceive me.

That’s changing. Slowly, but surely.

I still overthink. I probably always will. But now there’s more awareness, more humour, and much less self-blame. And maybe that’s the real progress.

Which makes me wonder…
do we overthink these small moments because they matter, or because we were taught that we have to manage everyone else’s comfort before our own?

— Raulito