Why We Chase People Who Don’t Choose Us – The Psychology of Rejection sensitivity, Validation and Self-respect

An honest look at modern dating, emotional attachment, the grief of potential and why we sometimes abandon ourselves in the pursuit of being wanted.

Why do we chase?

Have you ever found yourself becoming more emotionally invested in someone precisely when they seem to be becoming less available? Have you found yourself analysing messages, checking whether someone has viewed your stories, questioning a change in their tone or wondering what you did wrong when their attention suddenly shifts?

Perhaps you’ve told yourself you’re not going to message again, only to find yourself looking for another reason to make contact. I remember being there at the start of 2026, and now I look back and like ‘WTF Kerry’ !! Perhaps you’ve replayed a date in your head, searching for clues that might explain why somebody who appeared so bloody interested has suddenly become distant and perhaps the most difficult part is that you recognise what’s happening.

You know you’re overthinking. You know you’re giving somebody more headspace than they have earned, I mean have they even earned a fraction.. Yet somehow, knowing that doesn’t immediately make the feelings disappear.

Why do we do this? Why can another person’s attention, or lack of it, have such a powerful effect on how we feel about ourselves? And why, sometimes, do we find ourselves chasing reassurance from the very situation that is making us feel insecure?

I think these are important questions, particularly in a dating culture where communication is constant, connections can begin and end within days, and social media gives us endless opportunities to monitor somebody else’s attention.

One concept that helps us explore this is rejection sensitivity. It can influence how we interpret other people’s behaviour, how quickly we become emotionally invested and how we respond when we sense that somebody might not want us in the way we want them.

But there is another part of this conversation that I think deserves just as much attention: the grief of potential. Sometimes we aren’t grieving a relationship that we’ve actually had. We’re grieving the relationship we imagined might happen and somewhere between wanting to be chosen and hoping something will develop, we can lose sight of the one person whose feelings and needs we should never be prepared to abandon: ourselves.

Understanding rejection sensitivity

Rejection sensitivity is the tendency to anxiously expect, readily perceive and react strongly to the possibility of rejection. It doesn’t necessarily mean somebody has actually rejected us. Sometimes the emotional response begins before we know what is happening.

A delayed reply, a change in someone’s communication, a cancelled plan or a perceived lack of enthusiasm can become loaded with meaning. We might interpret uncertainty as rejection, distance as disinterest or a change in behaviour as evidence that we are no longer wanted.

The emotional reaction can feel much bigger than the situation itself. We may experience anxiety, sadness, frustration, embarrassment or an overwhelming need to find out where we stand.

It’s important to understand that rejection sensitivity isn’t exclusive to any particular group of people. Most of us will experience some degree of sensitivity to rejection at different points in our lives. For some, however, the experience is much more intense and can have a significant impact on relationships, confidence and emotional wellbeing.

The term rejection sensitive dysphoria, often shortened to RSD, is frequently used in discussions about ADHD and emotional sensitivity. However, it isn’t a formal standalone clinical diagnosis, and we should be careful not to treat every experience of rejection as a medical condition.

What matters is understanding the experience itself: why certain situations affect us so deeply, what they bring to the surface and how we can respond without allowing the emotion to take control of our behaviour.

Where does rejection sensitivity come from?

There isn’t one universal explanation. Rejection sensitivity can develop through a combination of experiences, relationships, temperament and the way we learn to understand ourselves and other people.

For some people, childhood experiences may play an important role. Growing up with emotional neglect, inconsistent affection, criticism, abandonment or a lack of reassurance can influence how safe we feel in relationships later in life.

When a child experiences inconsistent care or doesn’t feel emotionally secure, they may become particularly alert to changes in other people’s behaviour. They might learn to monitor moods, anticipate disappointment or work hard to maintain connection because, at some point, connection hasn’t felt reliable.

These experiences don’t automatically mean someone will develop rejection sensitivity. Nor does experiencing rejection sensitivity mean somebody must have experienced childhood trauma. Human development is much more complicated than that.

However, it is worth considering whether some of our adult reactions are connected to feelings that began much earlier in life.

Sometimes the person in front of us isn’t the whole reason we’re hurting. Their behaviour may be touching an older feeling: not being wanted, not being important, not being enough or not being chosen and when that happens, the emotional response can feel disproportionate because we’re not necessarily responding to just one moment. We’re responding to what that moment represents to us.

The impact of ADHD and autism

Although rejection sensitivity can affect anybody, neurodivergence can add another layer of complexity for some people.

ADHD is associated with difficulties with emotional regulation for some individuals. Emotions can feel particularly intense, and it may take longer to settle after something upsetting. Uncertainty, perceived criticism and changes in interpersonal relationships can therefore become difficult to navigate.

Autistic people may also experience particular challenges around social uncertainty, interpreting ambiguous communication or making sense of changes in another person’s behaviour. This varies enormously between individuals, and it would be wrong to assume that every autistic person experiences rejection in the same way.

I think it’s important to make this distinction because rejection sensitivity is not an ADHD or autism issue alone. It is a human experience, although neurodivergence, childhood experiences and other individual circumstances can influence how it presents.

The more we understand the different factors involved, the less likely we are to judge ourselves for having an emotional response that we don’t yet fully understand.

My own experience: learning to understand rejection sensitivity

This is something I’ve had to explore personally, and I will be honest: it wasn’t something I initially understood particularly well.

Even through my own personal development and therapist-related learning, I found that I had to go away and investigate it further. I wanted to understand what rejection sensitivity actually meant, where it could come from, why it could feel so intense and, perhaps most importantly, why certain situations seemed to affect me more than others.

As somebody who has experienced childhood trauma, neglect and the absence of a father figure, I’ve had to reflect on how those early experiences may have influenced the way I experience emotional connection, distance and rejection as an adult.

I can’t say that one experience explains everything, and I don’t think we should reduce our entire emotional world to our childhood. But I do think there is value in asking ourselves whether some of the things that hurt us today connect with feelings we experienced much earlier in life.

As a neuro-divergent woman with autism and ADHD, I’ve also had to consider how my own way of processing emotions, uncertainty and relationships can add another layer to the experience.

There have been a couple of occasions in my adult life when I’ve experienced rejection sensitivity particularly intensely. What I found interesting was how much emotional energy I could give to a situation, sometimes far more than the actual relationship or circumstances warranted.

I had to start looking at the underlying reasons rather than simply criticising myself for how I felt. I wanted to understand the triggers, recognise the patterns and learn how to respond differently and I think that is where real personal growth begins. Not in pretending we don’t care, not in becoming emotionally unavailable and certainly not in convincing ourselves that we should never feel hurt. It begins with developing enough self-awareness to recognise what is happening inside us and choosing not to let every emotion dictate our next move.

The validation loop: when we start chasing reassurance

One of the most difficult patterns associated with rejection sensitivity is the need for reassurance.

Imagine meeting somebody and having a genuinely lovely experience. There’s chemistry, conversation, attraction and the feeling that something could develop. You come away feeling positive, perhaps even excited about the possibility of seeing them again.

Then something changes. Their messages become less frequent. The enthusiasm seems to dip. They don’t initiate conversation in the same way, or perhaps they are still watching your social media stories but aren’t making any real effort to communicate.

Suddenly, your attention shifts.

Instead of enjoying the possibility of getting to know someone, you’re trying to work out whether they still like you. You’re analysing the timing of messages, reading between the lines, checking online activity and looking for reassurance that the connection hasn’t disappeared.

You might find yourself wanting to contact them, not necessarily because you have something meaningful to say, but because you want to relieve the discomfort of not knowing.. and this is where we can become caught in a cycle.

We feel uncertain, so we seek reassurance. We receive a little reassurance and feel better temporarily. But if the underlying situation remains inconsistent, the uncertainty returns. We then find ourselves looking for reassurance again.

The problem is that we can become dependent on the very person whose inconsistency is triggering the insecurity.

I sometimes think of this as a form of emotional self-sabotage. We repeatedly expose ourselves to a situation that makes us feel unsettled, hoping that the next interaction will finally give us the reassurance we need, but how much of our emotional energy are we willing to spend trying to obtain certainty from somebody who isn’t offering it naturally?

And at what point do we stop asking what they think of us and start asking what their behaviour is telling us?

The grief of potential: are we attached to the person or the possibility?

This is one of the most interesting parts of modern dating, and I think it is something many people will recognise.

Sometimes we become attached to what a person represents rather than what we actually know about them.

We have a wonderful first date. We experience chemistry, laughter, affection and a sense of connection. We start imagining what might happen next. We picture future dates, weekends away, conversations and the possibility of something meaningful.

Our minds begin building a future around a person we may have only met once or twice. Then, when the connection doesn’t develop, we experience disappointment that can feel surprisingly intense.

But what exactly are we grieving?

Are we grieving the person, or are we grieving the possibility of what we thought could happen?There is a difference between losing an established relationship and losing an imagined future. Both can hurt, but they are not the same experience.

When we become emotionally invested in potential, we can end up mourning something that never really existed outside our imagination. We may miss the excitement, the anticipation, the feeling of being wanted and the future we had quietly started to picture.

This doesn’t make the feelings silly or invalid. Hope is a natural part of getting to know somebody. It’s lovely to feel excited about a new connection.

But we need to be careful not to confuse the promise of something with the reality of what is being offered.

Chemistry isn’t compatibility. Attraction isn’t emotional availability. A wonderful first date isn’t a guarantee of a relationship. And somebody’s potential isn’t the same as their willingness to build something with us.

We need to give people the time and space to show us who they are through consistent behaviour, rather than filling in the gaps with what we hope they might become.

When rejection sensitivity meets modern dating

I think modern dating has created an environment where rejection sensitivity can be particularly difficult to navigate.

Dating apps have made it easier than ever to meet people, but they have also changed the way many of us experience connection. We can move from one conversation to another, meet several people in a short period of time and feel as though there is always somebody else just a swipe away.

Social media adds another dimension. We can see when someone is online, whether they have viewed our stories and sometimes what they are doing, without having any meaningful communication with them.

This can create a strange situation where we have more access to information about somebody’s activity but not necessarily more understanding of their intentions.

A person can watch every story and still make no effort to arrange a date. They can send a message one evening and disappear for several days. They can show enthusiasm in person but struggle to communicate consistently afterwards and because so much of modern dating takes place through a screen, we can find ourselves trying to interpret tiny pieces of information that may not tell us very much at all.

A viewed story isn’t a declaration of interest. An online status isn’t an invitation. A delayed reply doesn’t automatically mean rejection.

But when we’re already feeling emotionally vulnerable, these small details can become the focus of an enormous amount of mental energy.

I don’t think dating apps are inherently bad, nor do I think everyone who communicates inconsistently is deliberately trying to hurt somebody. People have different expectations, circumstances and levels of emotional availability.

However, I do think we need to recognise how an environment of constant access, ambiguity and perceived choice can make it harder to feel secure when we’re getting to know someone.

We can become so busy trying to work out where we stand with another person that we forget to ask whether we actually like how the situation is making us feel.

Why are we in such a rush?

I think this is a question worth asking.

Why do we feel the need to establish where something is going almost immediately? Why do we sometimes become so invested in a connection before we’ve had enough time to understand whether the other person is right for us?

There is nothing wrong with wanting a relationship. There is nothing wrong with being intentional about dating or knowing what you want, But there is a difference between being open to a relationship and trying to force one to develop before it has had the opportunity to grow naturally.

When we rush emotionally, we can become attached to an outcome rather than paying attention to the experience itself.

We start looking for signs that somebody likes us instead of asking whether their behaviour demonstrates the qualities we want in a partner. We focus on whether we’re being chosen rather than considering whether we would actually choose them and perhaps this is where we need to change our perspective.

If somebody wants to speak to you, allow them the opportunity to speak to you. If they want to arrange another date, let them show that through their actions. If they want you to be part of their life, there should be some natural movement towards that.

This isn’t about playing games, withholding affection or pretending to be less interested than we are. It’s about allowing a connection to be mutual.

You don’t need to carry the entire conversation, organise every meeting, initiate every interaction or continually remind somebody that you exist.

Let people meet you halfway.

And if they don’t, you have information that can help you decide whether this is something you want to continue investing in.

Self-respect: Stop abandoning yourself to be chosen

This is probably the most important part of the whole conversation for me.

Self-respect isn’t about being cold, arrogant or emotionally unavailable. It doesn’t mean pretending you don’t care when you do. It doesn’t mean refusing to message first or turning dating into a competition about who can appear least interested.

It means understanding that your worth doesn’t increase when somebody wants you, and it doesn’t decrease when somebody doesn’t.

It means being able to enjoy another person’s company without making their attention the measure of your happiness.

It means recognising when you’re starting to compromise your own emotional wellbeing in order to keep a connection alive.

It means being prepared to walk away from something that isn’t meeting your needs, even when you had hoped it might become something special.

I think many of us have, at some point, found ourselves trying to become more appealing, more accommodating or more available because we are worried that somebody might lose interest.

We might overlook behaviour that makes us uncomfortable, minimise our own expectations or convince ourselves that if we are just patient enough, understanding enough or attractive enough, things will eventually change.

But a healthy connection shouldn’t require us to continually negotiate our own worth.

We can be understanding of somebody else’s circumstances without making ourselves responsible for their emotional availability. We can recognise that somebody may be busy, healing or working through their own experiences without waiting indefinitely for them to decide whether they want us and we can be disappointed when something doesn’t work out without turning that disappointment into a judgement about ourselves.

How do we begin to break the cycle?

The first step is awareness. We cannot change a pattern we haven’t recognised, and we cannot make healthier decisions if we don’t understand what is driving our behaviour.

When you notice yourself becoming preoccupied with somebody’s attention, try to pause before reacting. Ask yourself whether you’re responding to something that has actually happened or to something you’re afraid might happen.

There is a difference between facts and interpretations. The fact might be that somebody hasn’t replied today. The interpretation might be that they’ve lost interest, met somebody else or decided you’re not good enough. Those interpretations may feel convincing, but they are not necessarily true.

Give yourself permission to sit with uncertainty rather than immediately trying to eliminate it.

Try to maintain your own life while getting to know somebody. Keep seeing your friends, pursuing your interests, working towards your goals and enjoying the things that make you feel like yourself. A new connection should add something to your life, not become the entire focus of it.

Be mindful of repeatedly checking social media, monitoring online activity or seeking reassurance when you feel anxious. These behaviours may offer temporary relief, but they can also keep your attention fixed on the uncertainty.

Most importantly, pay attention to how somebody behaves over time. Look for consistency, communication, respect and genuine effort. You don’t need to make excuses for someone, but you also don’t need to jump to conclusions based on one delayed message and if rejection sensitivity is causing significant distress or affecting your relationships and everyday life, speaking to a suitably qualified mental health professional can help you explore the underlying patterns and develop strategies that work for you.

The aim isn’t to stop caring. It’s to learn how to care without losing yourself.

Learning not to let feelings dictate behaviour

One of the biggest changes I’ve noticed in my own thinking is that I no longer believe every feeling needs an immediate response.

I can meet somebody, enjoy their company, feel attracted to them and genuinely hope that something develops. I can be excited about the possibility of seeing them again.

However, I can also recognise that if they don’t want the same thing, that is okay. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t interesting enough, attractive enough or good enough. It doesn’t mean I’ve missed my only opportunity for happiness. It simply means that this particular connection may not be right, mutual or available.

Of course, that doesn’t mean rejection never hurts. I’m human. I can still feel disappointed, and I can still have moments when I wish something had worked out differently. The difference is that I don’t have to allow those feelings to dictate my behaviour.

I don’t have to chase somebody to prove that I’m worth choosing. I don’t have to keep looking for reassurance from someone who isn’t offering it. And I don’t have to turn somebody else’s lack of interest into a personal failure.

There will always be other people to meet, other experiences to have and other opportunities for connection.

That isn’t arrogance. It isn’t pretending that people are disposable. It’s understanding that one person’s decision doesn’t define my value.

And I think there is a real freedom in reaching that point.

Stop grieving the future and start looking at the present

Perhaps one of the most important things we can learn in dating is to stop falling in love with what something could become before we’ve had the chance to understand what it actually is.

We need to give people the opportunity to show us who they are, rather than becoming attached to the version of them we’ve created in our minds.

We need to recognise that attraction is only one part of compatibility, that chemistry doesn’t guarantee emotional availability and that potential means very little without consistent action.

We also need to be kinder to ourselves. If rejection affects us deeply, there is usually something worth understanding beneath that feeling. We don’t need to shame ourselves for being sensitive, wanting connection or hoping to be loved.

However, we do need to take responsibility for how we respond.

We can acknowledge our past without allowing it to determine our future. We can recognise our triggers without allowing them to control our decisions. We can want somebody without needing them to want us back in order to feel whole.

And perhaps the question we should ask ourselves when we find ourselves chasing somebody’s attention isn’t simply, “Do they like me?”

Perhaps it’s:

“Why am I chasing something that doesn’t appear to be choosing me?”

Because the goal isn’t to become somebody who never feels rejection. It’s to become somebody who understands that rejection is not a measure of their worth.

You can be open-hearted without being endlessly available. You can be interested without becoming invested too quickly. You can hope for something beautiful without abandoning yourself in the process.

And you can walk away from a connection you wanted, knowing that you are still worthy of the connection you deserve. I learned a hard lesson in January 2026, and its one that’s helped me evolve so deeply and emotionally, take every situation you face as growth..

Don’t lose yourself trying to be chosen by somebody else. Choose yourself first.

The WhatsApp Graveyard – The Hidden sadness behind the Archived chats.

There’s a sadness attached to the WhatsApp archived box that I don’t think people talk about enough. For me, it isn’t just a folder. It isn’t a feature. It isn’t even practical….

It’s a graveyard.

A quiet cemetery of conversations that once lit up my screen, once lit up my heart, once got me all excited, and then, slowly, silently – went dark. Every time I open it, I’m reminded not just of people I’ve spoken to, but people I had hope for. People who came, touched my life for a moment, said all the right things, and then floated out just as easily.

And I ask myself:

‘Kerry how did we end up here?’ How did words that felt full of potential turn into silence? How did light turn into dimness?

What the Archived Box Means to Me

The archived box feels like the place I put people when I can’t bear to see them dwindle down my chat list. Watching someone slide further and further down, past the group chats, past the random acquaitance chats, past the family you rarely reply to, is painful. It’s a visual reminder of how long it’s been since they cared enough to speak… or since I cared enough to try again.

I don’t like putting people in the archived box. I don’t enjoy the symbolic burial of a conversation that once mattered, but sometimes keeping them in my main inbox hurts even more, because every day they drift further down, it’s like watching a candle burn out in slow motion.

So I archive them, Not because I don’t care, But because maybe… I care too much.

“Out of sight, out of mind” never really works – but it gives me a moment of peace.

Why We Put People There – Psychologically Speaking

From a psychologist point of view, the archiving someone is a coping mechanism. It’s emotional self-preservation. It’s the digital version of pushing a painful memory into a drawer so it doesn’t stab you every time you pass it.

However as you know I love to do this, let’s break it down, Here’s what’s actually happening:

We’re protecting ourselves from dopamine withdrawal

When communication drops, dopamine drops. It feels like a crash. We’re wired to attach to patterns of attention, affection, and consistency… and when that suddenly stops, the brain reads it as rejection, danger, loss, and fuck me, it starts to hurt!

Archiving becomes a way to minimise triggers. In a way it’s managing pain rejection. Even psychology textbooks say the brain processes social rejection like physical pain. Seeing their name every time we open the app hurts. Archiving puts a plaster on the bruise.

We’re grieving potential – not just a person

We call this ambiguous loss. It’s grief with no closure.

The archive holds:

  • potential relationships that never became real
  • stories that could have been beautiful
  • versions of people we hoped they were
  • versions of ourselves we were becoming

When someone pulls away, we feel powerless. Archiving gives us one small act of agency and dignity…

One small click that says: “I won’t let this hurt me every day.”

The Hope That Lives in the Archive

What makes it even sadder is that the archived box isn’t just grief – it’s hope. Every time a WhatsApp notification pops up, there’s a flicker of excitement. A tiny spark. A second of wondering if one of the voices from the archive has come back to life.

And sometimes… it’s just AliExpress… That sigh of disappointment says everything. Just seeing that (1) feels like a gamble, like Russian Roulette.. The archived box is where hope and heartbreak sit next to each other, quietly. Sad isn’t it.

So I know you’re wondering, what chats and who are in your archived Kerry.. it’s very simple

My Ex Husband (RIP), My best friend who passed 7 years ago, 4 Old business chats, Two men I fell for, and 6 men I got bored of chat with, and one who didn’t know if he was coming or going… 2017 – 2025!

When Do I Decide to Archive Someone?

For me, it’s when communication starts to hurt more than it feels good. When messages slow.When replies turn into half-hearted sentences. When 10 minute podcasts turn into ‘You ok’ … Noooo Inconsistency and emotional immaturity, does not work for me! Sorry but true!

When someone who once told you they liked you begins to backtrack internally… inventing flaws in you that don’t exist, inventing “I’ve been busy”, “I’ve got so much on” , bull shit with the excuses hun, In or OUT, it’s simple.. we don’t do bread crumbing!

That’s when I archive… NOT because I want to, but because watching the decline pains me, I see it as a Soft goodbye, a gentle retreat, it could have been.. but you fucked it mate! It’s my way of saying, I deserve more!!

Are We in Someone’s Archived Box Too?

We’ll never know for sure, but we know when communication drops. We know when someone judges us silently. We know when enthusiasm fades.

And the sad truth is:

we end up in their archive the same way they end up in ours – through silence, avoidance, miscommunication, fear, or simply choosing someone else.

The Graveyard of “Almost” Relationships

When I scroll through my archive, it feels like looking at a cemetery of could-have-beens.

People I let go, People who let me go. Opportunities that slipped away, Men who chose the wrong partner over me and now speak about feeling unloved, stay in my orbit, like I am the one that got away… No Darling, you let me get away!

I sit there thinking:

If you were that unhappy… why didn’t you see me? Why didn’t you realise I’m the opposite of everything that broke you? Why didn’t you recognise sincerity when it stood right in front of you?

They didn’t. The sad thing is by the time people realise they want you, their games and inconsistency, the communication stopping…

Me being archived… Or they being archived… It’s all just a digital tombstone for a story that might have been.

Maybe the Archive Tells Us More About Them Than About Us

In the end, people often put themselves in the archived box through:

  • mixed signals
  • fear
  • avoidance
  • emotional immaturity
  • choosing comfort over connection
  • choosing chaos over calm

And maybe that’s the real graveyard – not the WhatsApp folder, but the emotional space inside someone who never let themselves love fully. Those miss out, because out of self preservation, they talk theirselves out of real happiness, and maybe you could of helped them to find real happiness..

As much as the archive feels like a graveyard, I’m learning that I don’t have to keep visiting it like a mourner. Moving on isn’t about deleting people – it’s about understanding why the story didn’t progress and why that’s okay…

How I heal, and how I move on…

1. I Accept That Silence Is an Answer

Lack of communication is communication. Confusion is clarity.

2. I Focus on My Behaviour, Not Theirs

I can’t control why someone pulled away – but I can control how I respond.

3. I Reduce Triggers Without Punishing Myself

Archiving is a soft boundary, not a failure.

4. I Let Myself Feel the Micro-Grief

Losing potential hurts – but only for a moment, not forever.

5. I Remember That Genuine Connection Doesn’t Need Forcing

The right person won’t need convincing, won’t need chasing, just to boost their own ego, they could feel scared of the whole situation, but you know what… They still show up!

6. I Let New Conversations Start Fresh

Healing is attachment repair, not emotional replacement.

7. I Rewrite the Meaning of the Archive

It’s not a grave anymore.

It’s a record of how I’ve grown.

And that’s where the shift begins: when you stop chasing the ones who keep you guessing and start choosing the ones who make you feel safe, seen, and certain. When you realise that consistency isn’t boring – it’s calming. That genuine interest isn’t overwhelming – it’s reassuring. That real connection doesn’t spike your anxiety, their emotional chaos doesn’t throw you in fight or flight, – it steadies your nervous system, you feel at home, at peace.. You can’t wait to be in their arms again!

The moment you understand this, you reclaim your attention from the chaos and redirect it toward people who actually show up. People who don’t leave you hanging in the grey area. People who don’t make you fight for scraps of effort. People who choose you in a way you don’t have to earn.

Because the right connection won’t make you overthink – it will make you exhale.

And once you’ve felt that difference, the old patterns stop feeling tempting.