“If you want my attention, that’s easy. If you want my respect, show me you’re here to know me — not just notice me.” 

I’ll be honest: nothing makes me cringe faster than opening a message that says, “Hey Beautiful.” I know some people love that kind of attention, but for me, it lands flat. It tells me the person isn’t actually seeing me — they’re seeing an idea of me. A projection. A fantasy. And every time I read it, I want to respond with, “AND??? What about my values? What I dream about? What I’m building? What I hope for? What I want in this life?”

I don’t want attention. I want to be met.

And that, right there, is the heart of self‑respect.

Self‑respect isn’t about waking up every day feeling confident or radiant. It’s the ongoing decision to treat yourself as someone worth honoring. It shows up in the micro‑choices: how you speak to yourself, what you tolerate, what you walk away from, and what you refuse to perform for. It’s the quiet, steady commitment to not abandoning yourself — even when it would be easier to shrink, perform, or settle.

We live in a culture that craves attention the way our nervous systems crave sugar — quick, stimulating, and gone just as fast. Dating apps, social media, notifications… they’re all designed to give us tiny hits of validation. And while there’s nothing wrong with using these tools, there is a difference between using them with intention and using them to soothe an unmet need.

Attention is about the moment. Being known is about your humanity.

One is a spark. The other is a slow, steady flame.

That’s why “Hey Beautiful” feels so hollow. It’s not an attempt to know me. It’s an attempt to get a reaction. It’s reaching for the version of me that performs, not the version of me that breathes.

How to Tell If Someone Wants Attention or Wants to Know You

People who want attention:

• Keep the focus on your appearance or the surface

• Give inconsistent energy — hot today, cold tomorrow

• Reach out when they’re bored or lonely

• Avoid depth or anything that requires emotional presence

• Want a response, not a relationship

People who want to know you:

• Ask about your values, your dreams, your story

• Show curiosity about your inner world

• Follow through — their actions match their words

• Make space for nuance and real conversation

• Treat you like a person, not a moment

One is rooted in hunger. The other is rooted in intention.

And when you’re grounded in self‑respect, the difference becomes obvious.

Beauty Is Subjective — Character Isn’t

And here’s the truth I’ve learned: beauty is wildly subjective. What one person finds stunning, another person barely notices. It shifts with culture, preference, mood, and projection. It’s not stable. It’s not reliable. It’s not the thing that builds a life with someone.

What isn’t subjective is how you show up in the world — how you give to others, how you serve the people you love, how you honor your commitments, how you treat your family, how loyal you are, how trustworthy you are, how you root yourself in your values, how you think, how you love, how you grow.

Those things are not up for debate. Those things are not dependent on someone’s taste. Those things are the real markers of who you are.

And that is the way I’d rather be seen every single time.

Craving Attention Is… Honestly, A Little Cringe

Not because wanting to be seen is embarrassing — it’s deeply human. But because chasing attention exposes something deeper we’re avoiding.

When we chase attention, we’re not reaching for connection. We’re reaching for a numbing agent. A distraction. A quick hit of “I matter” that evaporates the moment the screen goes dark.

Attention becomes a substitute for the vulnerability we’re terrified to offer. But real vulnerability — as scary as it is — nourishes you more than any hit of attention ever could.

Why We Want Attention So Badly

We don’t chase attention because we’re shallow. We chase attention because we’re human.

Attention lights up the same parts of the brain that respond to safety, belonging, and connection. For many people — especially those who grew up without consistent emotional attunement — attention feels like proof of existence. It feels like, “I matter. I’m here. Someone sees me.”

But attention is the cheapest form of being seen. It satisfies the craving but never nourishes the hunger.

We want attention so badly because:

• It gives a quick hit of significance

• It temporarily soothes loneliness

• It distracts from deeper emotional needs

• It feels easier than risking real intimacy

• It mimics connection without requiring vulnerability

And when we don’t understand the deeper longing underneath, we keep reaching for more attention instead of addressing the real need: to be known, valued, and met.

Self‑respect interrupts that cycle. It slows you down long enough to ask, “What am I actually needing right now?” It helps you choose connection over performance, depth over dopamine, truth over the quick fix.

If You’re Lonely, Here’s What to Do With It

Loneliness is not a flaw — it’s information. It’s your inner world saying, “I’m ready for connection, but I want the real thing.”

Handled with self‑respect, loneliness becomes a doorway instead of a trap.

1. Name the loneliness instead of performing over it. Honesty interrupts the urge to chase attention.

2. Ask what the loneliness is actually asking for. Loneliness is rarely about people — it’s about longing.

3. Slow down before you reach for the quick fix. Attention is fast. Connection is slow.

4. Build connection in places that can actually hold you. People, communities, practices, spaces that root you.

5. Let loneliness soften you, not scramble you. If you sit with it, it makes you more honest, more discerning, more open.

Loneliness isn’t a sign something is wrong with you. It’s a sign you’re wired for connection — and that you’re finally refusing to settle for the cheap version.

The Professional Parallel

I’ve had to learn this in my professional life, too. As a therapist with a public platform, I’ve realized I have to show people who I am and how I work — not to chase attention, but to offer value. I want people to feel my voice, my clarity, my compassion, and think, “Yes, that’s the kind of therapist I’d want to work with.” That’s not performance. That’s alignment.

And part of that alignment is this: I don’t just want to be someone with self‑respect. I want to be someone who is trustworthy.

Because if someone is driven only by attention — if they’re constantly chasing the next hit, the next compliment, the next shiny distraction — you have to wonder whether they can honor commitments, stay present, or build anything real. Attention‑seeking is inherently unstable. It’s impulsive. It’s reactive. It’s rooted in hunger, not integrity.

Trustworthiness, on the other hand, is steady. It’s grounded. It’s built through consistency, presence, and follow‑through.

And that’s the same difference we feel in dating, friendships, and online spaces: Are you trying to connect, or are you trying to be seen? Because those two paths lead to entirely different kinds of relationships.

Self‑Respect Is Built Through Boundaries, Not Bravado

Self‑respect sounds like:

• “I won’t abandon myself to keep this connection.”

• “I can love you and still say no.”

• “I don’t need to earn my place here.”

• “I’m not performing for crumbs.”

Boundaries aren’t walls. They’re clarity. They’re the architecture of self‑respect.

And when you hold your dignity close, your relationships shift. You stop chasing attention and start discerning value. You stop accepting crumbs and start expecting reciprocity. You stop confusing intensity with intimacy. You stop negotiating your worth. Your connections become fewer, deeper, and more aligned.

Self‑respect is the antidote to the cultural drift toward shallow connection. It’s the decision to show up as a whole person, not a performance. It’s the courage to use modern tools without letting them use you. It’s the clarity to know the difference between someone who wants your attention and someone who wants you.

Because attention is loud but shallow. Connection is quieter — but it’s the only thing that actually fills you.

Call me “Beautiful” if you want, but if you can’t meet my mind, my values, or my depth — you’re not meeting me at all.