You know you have no close friends to confide in when you do these 7 things in public

Ever catch yourself in a social situation and think, “Why do I feel lonely when I’m surrounded by people?”

As a relationship counselor, I hear that line a lot.
Loneliness doesn’t just show up when you’re home on a Friday night—it often leaks out in public in ways we don’t notice. The tricky part? These habits can look “normal,” even social, but they quietly signal that you don’t have a true confidant yet.

If any of these ring a bell, there’s nothing wrong with you. It just means your support system needs some tending. That’s a solvable problem.

1. You overshare with acquaintances and then feel exposed

Been there. You’re chatting with coworkers or new parents at a school event and suddenly you’re spilling about your finances, your health scare, or last night’s fight.

Self-disclosure is healthy when it’s gradual and mutual. But when you pour out intimate details to people who haven’t earned your trust, it’s often a sign you’re starved for a safe listener.

Brené Brown has a great litmus test: share your story with people who’ve shown they can hold it. If you leave a conversation with a vulnerability hangover—tight chest, “why did I say that?” feelings—your system is telling you to slow down and choose your audience more carefully.

Tiny fix: write down three topics you’ll save for close friends or your therapist. When those come up in public, switch to a lighter version and follow up later with someone safe.

2. You perform a highlight reel instead of having a real conversation

If you catch yourself “curating” in public—perfect marriage, perfect kids, ideal productivity—it’s often a protective move when you don’t have a confidant to be messy with.

I’ve noticed this in myself after a tough week. I’m smiling big, telling funny stories, and somehow skipping the part where I didn’t sleep for two nights. Performances get applause, but not closeness.

As Susan Cain points out, depth—not volume—creates connection.

Try one honest line the next time someone asks how you are: “Honestly, I’m a little fried today, but I’m glad to be here.” You’ll be surprised how many people exhale with you.

3. You default to your phone in every lull

Phone out at the crosswalk. Phone out in the café line. Phone out between sentences.

Constant scrolling is often self-soothing when we don’t have a person to turn to. It looks like busyness — it acts like a shield.

The problem is that it blocks micro-connections—the eye contact, small talk, and micro-laughter that seed future friendships.

The thing is that attention is the foundation of empathy. When we give our attention to a screen by default, we starve the tiny moments that could become “Hey, want to grab coffee?” next week.

Micro-shift: when you feel the itch to scroll, pick one person to genuinely notice—barista, neighbor, colleague—and ask one curious question. Curiosity is how strangers become acquaintances, and acquaintances become friends.

4. You fish for reassurance more than you ask real questions

“Was that okay?” “Do you think they liked me?” “Be honest—was I weird?”

Seeking reassurance isn’t a flaw; it’s human. But when your public conversations are mostly about being approved of, it’s often a sign you’re not getting grounded affirmation in private.

Dale Carnegie said it straight: “You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you.”

Reassurance has a short shelf life; genuine interest opens doors.

Try this ratio tonight: for every reassurance bid you make, ask two sincere questions about the other person’s world. You’ll feel steadier—and more connected.

5. You laugh along when someone crosses your boundary

A joke at your expense. A comment about your body. A dig at your competence. You laugh it off—“It’s fine!”—and die a little inside.

When we have good friends, they mirror our worth back to us. Without that mirror, it’s easy to doubt ourselves in public and go along to get along. The unintended message you send (to yourself) is, “My comfort doesn’t matter.”

What I tell clients—and practice myself—is a simple boundary line delivered warmly: “I know you’re joking, but that one doesn’t sit well with me.”

Then change the subject. You don’t need a debate to protect your dignity.

6. You keep it surface-level—forever

You can talk about restaurants, wthe eather, and the latest Netflix series with anyone. But if you never graduate to “what’s really on your mind?” territory, it’s a sign you don’t have a container for depth yet.

This doesn’t mean dumping your diary on a new friend. It means testing the waters with small truths: “I’ve been rethinking my career lately.” “Parenting has humbled me this month.”

Watch how people respond. The ones who lean in are your candidates for real friendship.

You might have read my post on building adult friendships — the short version is this: consistency + honesty + time.

Most people crave it—and they’re waiting for someone to go first.

7. You turn every group hang into a stage for self-deprecation

Some of us learned that the safest way to be liked is to be the first to make ourselves the punchline. It lowers the stakes and gets a laugh—but it also trains people to see you as less capable, less confident, less…you.

A steady diet of self-deprecation is usually a loneliness strategy in disguise: “If I hurt me first, no one else can.”

The antidote isn’t swinging to arrogance; it’s simple self-respect in your language.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but the ideas in Rudá Iandê’s new book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos, really helped me check my own habits in public.

One line I keep on a sticky note: “Embracing yourself isn’t just a gift to you—it’s the foundation for how you meet and move through the world.”

I took that as permission to speak a little more honestly and choose people who could meet me there.

So, try swapping “I’m such an idiot” for “I missed that detail — I’ll fix it.”  Respectful to yourself, clear to others. Over time, people treat you how you treat you.

Final thoughts

If these signs hit close to home, take a breath. Nothing here is a character flaw. They’re just coping strategies that made sense when you didn’t have a safe person to call.

Start small:

• Choose one person you already like and invite a tiny bit more honesty.

• Replace one public performance with one true sentence.

• Put the phone away during one wait-in-line moment and make eye contact.

• Protect one boundary with a kind line.

Close friends don’t appear by magic. They grow where you offer attention, truth, and time. And when you start treating yourself like someone worth knowing, the right people notice—and come closer.