Your Nonchalance Isn't Sexy. It's Exhausting.

Amaya Emily North

6 hours ago

5 min read

As a society, honestly, I think we’ve killed the art of caring rather embarrassingly and loudly. We have become so concerned about how we are perceived by onlookers rather than by ourselves.

We have prioritised the maintenance of a persona, a character that we have adopted rather than following our own desires. We have become so caught up in this world of (curated) effortless appearances, so we can be seen as detached or mysterious, like we have forgotten the very thing that our relationships are composed of: caring and caring ardently.

In South London, Raye, the British singer-songwriter, has a blue British heritage plaque above The Nightingale pub in Balham, which reads “Raye experienced the greatest heartbreak she has ever known here. 27^th February 2019”.

This plaque was placed here after her second album “This Music May Contain Hope” was released (27^th March 2026), and even contains a song called “Nightingale Lane”. This pub, “The Nightingale”, was her ex’s favourite pub, his local, which now has her name imprinted on it.

Likewise, The American singer-songwriter Olivia Rodrigo, in her third album “you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love”, named a song “the cure”, which was reported to be her ex’s favourite band and even collaborated on the song “what's wrong with me” with The Cure's lead singer Robert Smith. So, when her ex searches for his favourite band, Olivia’s song will inevitably come up as well, a reminder of her; just as every time Raye’s ex wants a peaceful pint in his favourite local, he will be reminded of Raye.

It would be easy to read these as petty reprisals, at a remarkable level, but I think it’s closer to the opposite. I think it’s the greatest possible nod to the significance of these relationships.

This isn’t the demand to leave an impression; it’s an acknowledgement that the relationship left an impression on them. An acceptance of the time they spent together and a refusal to pretend otherwise. It’s a rejection of the idea that deep emotion is something to be embarrassed by. These albums are a salute to the time they spent with their exes and a testament that the relationship mattered to them, which is impossible not to smile at.

Or maybe it is petty, and rather this serves as a lesson to never break the heart of a musician, as it will haunt you (by reaching number 1 in the charts).

But I think these albums explore something that society is losing: the art of caring. They reject the sense that deep emotions are inherently embarrassing, which is what we now see across the modern dating scene. These albums scream the pain and vulnerability that others swallow when a relationship ends.

They do not fight the pain; they accept it, the anger, the upset as it passes through them and refuse to hide it. They refuse to be quiet about something that mattered so deeply to them. They refuse to act as if they don’t care. Because they do. They reject any sense of casualty towards the relationship, which subsequently becomes an affirmation of their love. They are not embarrassed to admit that their exes mattered to them, and that, I believe, is one of the greatest compliments; potentially as close to closure as you can get. Maybe this is what we are losing: in our pretence to look unbothered, we have lost the beauty in caring and acknowledging that relationships matter to us.

We are living in an age of endless contradictions. As a society, we have become addicted to constant communication but not constant understanding; a loneliness epidemic exists in a world that has never been so well connected. We are obsessed with appearances rather than honesty and vulnerability. We have become caught up in the performativity of coolness, to be nonchalant and aloof, but as humans, riddled with emotions, we were never meant to be unbothered. We are inherently disposed to be passionate, attached to those we love and in our attempt to appear cool or even mysterious, we feel more alone than ever before.

Intensified by social media, we have punished and ridiculed the very thing that makes us human: our ability to care about each other. If we don’t try to express how we feel, how can we ever connect with others? How do we feel understood or accepted if we don’t explain how we feel and admit to vulnerability or even succumb to embarrassment? By expressing the preferred, perfected and filtered versions of ourselves, we’ve simultaneously, as a society, scorned honest exposure and refused to put ourselves at risk of embarrassment.

As Austin Butler in a street interview puts it:

"Embarrassment is an underexplored emotion. Go out there and make a fool of yourself"

That’s really a good mantra to just go for it. Like, feel that feeling, the fear of cringe, and then go out there and do it. Because everything you want is on the other side of that.”

In the digitised age, where algorithms seek and praise perfection, our biggest resistance could be to let ourselves be flawed, to let things bother us, but most importantly, to express it. Our attitude to being honest with ourselves and others must change. Rather than seeking the most nonchalant or the ‘coolest’ action, maybe we should start with the honest one: to let ourselves be flawed and get embarrassed, especially to the people we love the most.

There is power in leaving it all out on the table. Perhaps leaving in silence isn’t the fast path to moving on. In the attempt to do the right thing or save yourself grief by putting up a front, it causes more pain than just saying exactly how you're feeling. Because it’s okay to have cared, at times possibly even more than the other person. Maybe, if we left it all out on the table, said everything that had to be said, embarrassing ourselves in our desperation, it would stop so many people from returning to their exes; because of the confirmation that they did matter, everything that could have been done to save the relationship has been done. All excuses exhausted, and the only thing left is to accept the end.

I believe we must reject shrugging our shoulders with a light sigh after swallowing how we feel and instead love loudly, be willing to care and be marked. We all need to relearn how to risk embarrassment, to communicate honestly, with an open mind, willing to change our initial thoughts, and open ourselves to the perspectives of others.

As Ethan Hawke said (to one of my favourite interviewers, Amelia Dimoldenberg), ‘the one in love always wins’, conveying the beauty that lies within vulnerability. We should all be more willing to talk, excited to put ourselves at risk of embarrassment, to make a fool of ourselves to explain how we feel, to connect with others or maybe even disconnect. Perhaps what you're looking for might just be on the other side of that fear of embarrassment: the freedom to be exactly who you are, even if you make a fool of yourself.

So have we become too scared to be vulnerable?