Now? No—still too far away. Give it a sec.
Okay, almost… Three. Two. One. Go.
I looked up from my phone, where I had been swiping up and down on a text message I had already answered, and into the face of an acquaintance. They looked back. We exchanged quick smiles, feet never slowing as I made my way to the Sterling Library exit. It was perfect.
Welcome to an overthinker’s guide to brief social interactions. There are different levels of engagement with this art. The key is to first identify the social proximity of the individual in question. Some warrant leaving my stuff unattended so that I can adequately greet them (Level 4); some get a small chat whenever I run into them (Level 3); there are those I’ll simply wave to (Level 2); and finally, there are those with whom I have a mutually understood—yet unspoken—agreement to look at and smile (Level 1).
Body language speaks louder than any words could in this process. Walk fast, pretend you have somewhere to be, and the question of potential conversation is erased. At this point, either a Level 1 or 2 interaction, or nothing at all, will ensue. On the other hand, removing your headphones or slowing your gait will signal an invitation to talk, constituting a Level 3 or 4 interaction. In the example of the Sterling acquaintance, I moved quickly and looked up at the precise time to ensure a perfect Level 1 interaction. Brief as they may be, these are arguably the most difficult to master. Based on my personal experience, however, I have distilled Level 1 interactions into three primary categories:
In some cases, both parties will notice around fifteen feet apart. What happens next is typically a brief exchange of eye contact, followed by either party diverting their gaze towards some “object of interest” (i.e., their phone or a nearby sign) until they have passed each other. Sometimes, however, after exchanging glances, one party will alter their path accordingly to avoid crossing paths with the acquaintance.
Other times, one party will spot the other when the distance exceeds fifteen feet. They must then busy themselves until the appropriate distance is reached; at this point, eye contact is sufficient to say hi but not long enough for any awkwardness to ensue. This requires a level of finesse as one has to balance time, distance carefully, and simultaneously an air of naturalness.
“Sometimes when I’m trying to wait until I’m close enough to make eye contact and wave to someone, I open Instagram and just stare at the screen telling me my time is up” (Melany Perez, BK ’26).
In the third case, where both parties notice each other at different points, eye contact is never really made, but you know you have seen one another. The silent hello is never said, and you move on with your day.
“Once, I made eye contact WAY too early, so I panicked and pulled out my phone, except I had nothing to look at. By the time I glanced up again, we were too close for a second hello or nod so we just walked past each other in silence. I wanted to erase this interaction from my memory” (Kawthar Al Janabi, BR ’26).
Of course, these are just three variations of an interaction that occurs countless times per day, rather quickly, passing in and out of the conscious mind with an ease that makes the decision-making process almost automatic.
I will not proclaim to be an expert in the field. In fact, I have been the perpetrator of many awkward silent hellos: thinking I knew someone I did not, not recognizing someone I did, in fact, know (for this, however, I blame my worsening vision), and attempting to greet someone who simply did not reciprocate recognition of our acquaintance (this always serves as a blow to the ego). These failures, or rather the potential for failure, in all these silent hellos, create a sense of tension that quickly dissipates once the brief encounter is over. Although, in cases of extreme failure, the tension leads to a lingering embarrassment. If you happen to be with a friend during one of these colossal failures, the whole thing turns into a joke, and suddenly, the subject of the failed encounter becomes a character who is all the more noticeable in daily life.
Some who read this may claim to have never experienced such intense mental calculations for such a fleeting moment. But I have watched others, strangers and friends alike, employ the same tactics I’ve detailed above. It’s a little song and dance we all do—and now that I’ve written the melody out, the tune will be all the more obvious when it plays.
This phenomenon creates the cornerstone of half of our social interactions. It’s how we say hello and how we build connections. A few well-timed Level 1 interactions may eventually transform into Level 2, and if effort and sentiment is reciprocated, Level 3 and 4 become the new norm. But this transition doesn’t typically occur—or at least not as often as it should—and I think it all hinges on our fear of rejection. What if they don’t look back? What if they don’t remember who I am? What if I thought we were closer than we are? What if I can’t sustain a conversation, and it becomes awkward? As a self-diagnosed perpetual people pleaser, this last one is particularly devastating and one of the primary reasons I tend to stick to Level 2 interactions. But, there are those rare moments when I bite the bullet instead of thinking the worst. And instead of walking quickly, I slow down, take my earbuds off, and welcome the chance for connection.
