Include the weird ones
We all know a few of these people. We just don’t always let them in.
When I’ve gotten the 20th text asking me about the next edition of Love Letters, sigh, I know I’ve been slacking.
This Substack takes a back seat when I’m writing more for Forbes and deep in reading/research land, or for my LinkedIn newsletter (same same, but different).
Apologies dear people. 🙏🏽 I endeavor to be more consistent.
Everyone knows a few slightly weird people.
Maybe they don’t read social cues well. Maybe they have a niche hobby — painting miniature Warhammer figures** with a single-bristle brush and an alarming amount of opinions about matte versus gloss varnish — that they will tell you about, unprompted, for 25 minutes. PS: This is not a commentary on neurodivergent folks, though sometimes the weird ones are also neuro-atypical (and we should include them with open arms as well).
*I only know about this because a friend’s son is into them. Rest assured, my only credible hobby is recreational cooking.
The point is, we all know a few of these people. We don’t seem to have it in our hearts to always let them in.
My massage therapist is one of them. She is genuinely talented, and also just... a bit off in a way I can never put my finger on. When I’ve recommended her to friends, the feedback comes back almost identically every time: “The massage was great, but isn’t she a little weird?” Yes, she is. I feel it too.
Years ago, there was a woman in my broader social circle who often got filed under “weird.” She had a tendency to overshare. Something about her always felt slightly out of sync with the room, and people adjusted around her the way you adjust around a piece of furniture that’s just slightly too big for the space.
My graduate school bestie was labeled a bit strange (to be fair, she is German).
My neighbor is this person. There have been moments where I’ve thought twice about inviting her to gatherings with friends. I’m aware she can hear the lively chatter coming from my backyard and she knows when she has been excluded.
Social norms train us early on how to handle people like this: keep them close enough to be polite, far enough that they don’t embarrass you at an event.
We’re taught to gravitate toward the socially fluent. The ones who are easy in a room, easy to introduce, easy to stand next to at a work event without anyone asking follow-up questions. People who are pleasant to be around and don’t make anyone feel anything in particular — which, as I get older, is its own kind of absence. Some people can be extremely easy to be around and almost impossible to actually know.
So, here’s my pitch: include the weird ones.
That’s it. That’s the whole piece, you can stop reading now (or not).
Add them to the group chat, the dinner party, the backyard barbecue, the work happy hour, all of it. Even, and especially, the people who haven’t quite mastered the social script.
Because here’s what I’ve noticed, almost without exception: the weird ones are often the kindest, most loyal people you’ll meet.
A few years ago received a package with 8 Ritter Sport chocolate bars from my German friend, in a limited edition flavor that only comes out during the World Cup or the Olympics — that you can only buy in Germany. All because I was obsessed with it in my 20’s and she remembered. All because 22 year old me became friends with the slightly strange German girl others avoided.
What reads as “socially competent” is just fluency in a very specific dialect: saying the right amount about yourself, not talking too much or too little, asking the right follow-up question, knowing when to laugh and when to exit a conversation gracefully. These are real skills, for sure. They’re also often a performance.
The people we label “weird” or “strange” frequently haven’t learned that performance, or have learned it imperfectly, or have decided it’s not worth the energy. So what you get instead is less polish and more person (and more care packages with enough candy for a lifetime).
I think about this in terms of who gets to belong, and who has to earn it by being palatable first.
We do this with race, with class, with disability, with immigration status - there’s always a tier of “acceptable difference” and a tier of “too much,” and the line moves depending on who’s drawing it (people with power) and what they’re protecting (status).
Ask any immigrant child when they stopped taking food from their culture in their lunchboxes, and you’ll be surprised that for each person, the exact moment is crystal clear. It is often the first act of giving up a part of our identity to become socially palatable.
So here’s the invitation — and it really is an invitation, not a guilt trip:
Next time you’re making a list (for a dinner, a project, a group chat, a panel), notice who you’re quietly leaving off because they might be “a lot.” And then add them anyway.
They deserve to be there.
Bigger tents are built one slightly-weird person at a time. If this resonated, share it with someone who needs the reminder to text the weird friend back. And if you ARE the weird friend — hi 👋🏽 I see you, you’re doing great.
Some research that supports befriending the weird ones:
People with a more diverse social network - not just close friends, but acquaintances, neighbors, and casual ties - report higher life satisfaction and wellbeing than those with a narrower circle. Hale et al., via Psychology Today, “Feeling Lonely? Weak Social Ties Offer Surprising Benefits” — https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/frazzlebrain/202212/feeling-lonely-weak-social-ties-offer-surprising-benefits
“Weak ties” (acquaintances, fringeships, the people who hover just outside your inner circle) provide a sense of connection and support that close friends often can’t, precisely because the relationship carries lower stakes and fewer expectations. Adams & Blieszner, “More than an Acquaintance, Less than a Friend: Fringeships in Everyday Life” — https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12330783/
Surprising or unexpected information about a person measurably increases the odds that others will want to connect with them — meaning the quirks that make someone “a lot” are often the very thing that makes them memorable and worth knowing. Sun & Taylor, arXiv (2019), on surprising information and weak-tie network formation — https://arxiv.org/pdf/1905.02762
As both a victim and I culprit, I appreciate this PSA.