The illusion of knowing someone

In modern relationships, we often confuse superficiality with genuine meaning while trying to get to know each other. We cling to trivia – favorite colors, birthdays, hometowns, or “real names” – as if they reveal someone’s essence. These details are easy to collect, socially acceptable to ask, and simple to memorize. But they rarely touch who a person truly is. If someone loves celebrating their birthday, that’s awesome – I’m happy for their extra joy. But that’s not the point here.

When someone says, “I know them well – they love green, were born in July, and are from Michigan,” what’s actually being said about the person? Not much. About their personality? Nothing. Whether they prefer green or blue doesn’t unlock their personality. If they’re proud of their eye color or hometown for any reason, I’ll gladly note it, but other than that these are labels, not insights. We’re conditioned to think that gathering such facts builds closeness. It doesn’t. At best, it creates a shared vocabulary; at worst, it fosters a false sense of connection that hides real understanding.

I think of movies where someone’s asked with some gloating pressure, “What do you even know about Hannah?? What’s her favorite food? What’s her favorite tree? What’s her eye color???? Ah, you don’t know!!!” If the other person doesn’t know, they’re instantly being shamed for “not caring.” In the next scene, a “loving” character lists cute observations about their “beloved”: “She keeps her pinkie out when holding a teacup, raises an eyebrow at kittens, prefers warm showers.” The audience swoons, “That’s love! Awwwww! Cute!” But is it? To me, it’s an observation. Anyone with even mild attention could notice these after a few encounters. A little bit of a different story is that those small things make one feel attached, but still it is an observation. If asked about the bartender at their regular coffee shop, they might say, “He wears a green t-shirt, is left-handed, seems shy.” Also love? These details spark “aww” moments, but they’re not a deep connection. Where are the questions that matter?

I prefer one-on-one conversations that go beyond the surface. I’m not afraid to share opinions or dive deeper. Yet, I’m often asked for “my real name,” even by people who’ve known me for a while. It always strikes me a little. One knows my thoughts on countless topics, how I’d react to tough situations, but my passport name matters more? I haven’t used it outside legal contexts in over a decade, because I didn’t chose it, never really fancy it, neither associate myself with it. It’s not “real” to me – it’s as personal as my ID number. If I said, “My ID is 60993,” would that make us closer, like I shared something deeply personal? 🙂 Ironically, the colour of the walls in my apartment means more to me. I use three nicknames in a regular life, depending on my mood or setting. I don’t celebrate my birthday because it holds no meaning for me, but if you love yours, I’m genuinely thrilled for your special day and might try to remember. Don’t judge me for forgetting your eye color or your cousin’s name. They’re not what makes me feel I know you. Those facts are often seen as signs of care, but to me, they can overshadow what truly connects us, and being present alone doesn’t create a meaningful connection.

Real closeness comes from exploring beyond surface facts. How does someone handle jealousy, frustration, or conflict? What are their thoughts on trust or forgiveness? These questions reveal a person’s inner world, yet they’re rarely asked. And that’s fine – not everyone wants this depth, and that’s the beauty of different connections. For me, though, it makes even the fun parts better. I’d be more inclined to please someone who shares their perspective on life than someone who just loves kimchi (though, hey, I like kimchi too!).

I’m not saying trivia isn’t valuable. If you cherish your birthday cake or hometown pride, I’m all for it – it’s another reason to celebrate you. But trivia shouldn’t replace deeper understanding or be mistaken for closeness. We often stick to shallow questions because they’re easier—they demand less presence, patience, or vulnerability. It’s simpler to ask someone’s zodiac sign than their take on handling betrayal. But in doing so, we reduce people to outlines instead of embracing their full, complex selves. To truly know someone, resist defining them by trivia, origins, or names. Ask: How do they navigate life’s messier moments? What shapes their perspective? And, most importantly… do they like blue like I do? ))