Firewalls in All the Wrong Places

The best practice for a network firewall couldn’t be more elegant: start by blocking everything, and only allow information to flow where it’s strictly necessary. But when you apply that same logic to your social life, you block more than threats. You block connection, too.

Compartmentalized Worlds

For nearly a decade, I compartmentalized my social life. I lived through a long stretch of quiet loneliness that went unexamined until recently.

I kept everyone separate. My family knew certain things, colleagues knew others, and friends operated on a completely different set of facts. Many didn’t know my relationship status, let alone my job title. Friends never saw photos of my family, and some people had no idea where I even lived.

Why do this? There’s no better explanation than to avoid vulnerability. It was a strict need-to-know policy I had to maintain in my head at all times. Meanwhile, everyone around me was likely a little uncomfortable when I was terse with personal details.

People know when something’s not being said. They just want to get to know you, but they can’t make you talk. This puts a conversational burden on them as they discover and navigate around all your orange cones.

I still don’t have a clear answer for the root cause, but in 2026 I took a hard look at this part of my life.

Maintaining Separate Worlds Makes it Harder to Feel Loved

I picked up a book called How to Feel Loved by Sonja Lyubomirsky and Harry Reis. The authors suggest adopting a sharing mindset to feel more connected and seen by the people around you.

So I decided to run an experiment. I would start small and look for low-stakes opportunities to share things I’d normally keep to myself. It didn’t have to be a permanent shift—just a test to see what happened.

Trying Something Different

One day at the pool, I noticed someone practicing the basics in the shallow end. I stepped out of my lane, walked over, and asked, “I see you’re new to swimming. Can I be of service in any way?”

We chatted, she agreed, and I got in beside her to teach a few techniques I knew well. When I saw her about a week later, she was smiling and so grateful. “I mentioned what we worked on to my instructor, and he thought it was great,” she said. Hearing that made me feel good.

Then she asked, “Are you going to be here on Friday?” She wanted to know when I’d be back for some reason.

“No,” I said. “I have a date!”

She lit up. She couldn’t help but start offering advice. I was taken aback and needed a second to adjust.

I’m no stranger to dating and have put a lot of thought into it, but I was happy to listen because she was so enthused. Maybe she had an insight I hadn’t considered. Maybe this was just her way of returning the favor for me showing her how to float on her back.

A week later, I was in the middle of a backstroke when I noticed someone whooping from the pool deck. “So how did it go?!” I heard my new swim buddy say as I swam over.

In those first few seconds, I had no idea what was going on for two reasons. First, I was actively swimming, and second, I had my goggles on—not my glasses, so I wasn’t certain I was being addressed, let alone who was talking to me.

She wanted the full report so badly that she interrupted my backstroke over the deep end. How cute is that?!

“We may have started a brush fire,” I joked. She laughed. I told her that knowing she was rooting for me had actually given me comfort right before I walked up to my date. And it was true. We’d only spoken three times, yet I already felt a genuine warmth toward my new friend.

None of this would have happened if I hadn’t told her about something important and personal happening in my life. I lowered the firewall with a stranger, and a connection formed.

The signal from the experiment could not be clearer: open up, and connections suddenly become possible. Your world can be so much richer.