The television flickered, casting a familiar, soft glow across the room. Against my better judgment, I found myself — yet again — marooned in the captivating, often bewildering, world of The Bachelor.
I tell myself it’s for anthropological study, a deep dive into modern romance, but honestly, it’s a baffling spectacle that increasingly makes me question our collective psychological compass.
This past season, in particular, solidified a brewing frustration I have with two particular phrases that seem to have become the bedrock of reality TV confessions: "I feel seen" and "I need validation."
I’ve heard them echoing through countless confessionals and one-on-one dates, and each time, a small part of me recoils. "I feel seen." Really? Is it truly that revolutionary to be acknowledged? I understand what they’re trying to articulate. On a group date with nine other hopefuls, when the lead locks eyes with you or asks a followup question that shows genuine interest, it’s meant to convey: "On this group date with nine other people, it’s like you were looking at me a lot and acknowledged my existence and that made me feel special." But here’s my sticking point: really, that made you feel special? Really though? Really?
To me, it screams deep-seated insecurity. It speaks volumes about individuals who seem to be walking through life feeling invisible, perpetually unhappy and relying entirely on someone else — a near-stranger, no less — to boost their confidence and self-esteem. It implies they need reassuring that they are, I don’t know, a living, breathing, worthy person. This constant need for external affirmation, for someone else to certify your existence, feels like a profound shift from what I understood about navigating the world.
Think about it from another angle, one that might resonate more: your career.
Back in the day, and arguably still today in any truly competitive environment, it was entirely up to you to stand out from the crowd. Consider your resume when applying for a job. You meticulously crafted it, highlighting your strengths, experiences, and unique qualifications. Your entire aim was to show yourself, to make sure your resume didn't just blend into the pile.
Or picture the job interview itself: did you sit there passively, hoping the interviewer would somehow intuit your brilliance and validate your worth? Absolutely not. It was your moment to shine, to articulate your value, to be seen not because someone granted you visibility, but because you commanded it. You brought your authentic, competent self to the table and actively demonstrated why you deserved that position.
Why then, in the realm of personal connection, has the expectation shifted so dramatically? Why is it now seemingly commonplace for individuals to just come along and expect people to fawn all over them and bow down, solely to make them "feel seen"? It has never been that way. Genuine connection, in my experience, is built on mutual respect and a baseline of self-assurance. It flows from two already-complete individuals choosing to share their lives, not from one person needing the other to fill an existential void.
This phenomenon isn't confined to the artificial confines of a reality TV mansion either. It reminds me vividly of the people who gush incessantly and post daily on social media about how deeply in love they are with their partner, often accompanied by elaborate, whimsical philosophies about romance. Every anniversary, every minor milestone, every Tuesday, becomes an opportunity for a sprawling declaration of love that reads less like a heartfelt sentiment and more like a performative validation.
It makes me wonder: are you truly that in love? Or are you, consciously or unconsciously, in love with the idea of love, or more accurately, in love with the validation that comes from publicly announcing your "perfect" love story? Are you desperately trying to convince yourself, and everyone else, that you are indeed "seen" and validated in this relationship, rather than simply existing contentedly within it?
Perhaps I'm old-fashioned, but I firmly believe that true self-worth is an internal construct. It’s built through experience, resilience, self-reflection and a deep understanding of who you are, independent of external affirmation. To need someone else to “see” you, to “validate” your existence, feels like outsourcing the most fundamental aspect of your being. While it’s wonderful to be appreciated and understood in a relationship, that should be the cherry on top, not the entire cake.
My plea, then, is this: reclaim your self-reliance. Cultivate an inner sense of worth so robust that while you appreciate connection and genuine interest, you don't rely on it to confirm your existence. Strive to be the kind of person who, like a well-crafted resume, powerfully presents yourself to the world, rather than waiting for someone else to stumble upon your hidden value and declare you "seen."
Because, frankly, if you need a camera crew and a stranger to make you feel like a living, breathing person, perhaps the real work isn’t about finding a partner, but about finding yourself.