The emotional torture of recommending something you love to someone you like

1 week ago 3

Opinion

September 6, 2025 — 7.00pm

My friend Cameron is not dramatic by nature, so I was right to be alarmed when he texted me a close-up photo of his frowning face, accompanied by the words: “Hey, just wondering why you hate me?”

I’m not sure what it says about the state of my conscience, but rather than thinking, “Oh, no, what’s he on about?” I instead jumped to “Oh dear, what’s he heard?”

My first thought concerned a recent joke I’d made at his expense about a shirt he’d worn being from Gorman (it was loud and covered in patterns). I’d felt bad afterwards and even worse now, so the time had come to apologise via text. “Is this about the Gorman thing? Sorry, man!” Almost immediately, the reply came: “What Gorman thing? No, it’s because you refuse to watch the show Dave despite the fact I know you will LOVE it.”

If sharing is caring, why won’t you watch, read or listen to the thing I specifically mentioned to you, hoping our shared appreciation of it would bond us for eternity?

For the last year, he had been consistently recommending I watch Dave, a comedy about a neurotic, mid-20s suburbanite convinced that he’s destined to be one of the greatest rappers of all time.

Ostensibly, the recommendation was based on Cameron’s (probably correct) assumption that the series hits many of my specific interest points (delusional man with issues seeks greatness) and therefore I would definitely enjoy it.

But as with all recommendations to friends, it also served as a reflection of deeper, universal desires: validation, acceptance, and the feeling of being seen by seeing others. In a world where algorithms have hijacked control of the cultural conversation, a personalised recommendation is proof that we are still capable of genuine connection based on individual tastes and preferences.

I know this because recommending something I like to someone I like is also one of my favourite pastimes, a well-received recommendation bringing with it a joy that is difficult to replicate.

Unfortunately, one of my (few) character flaws is that when I recommend any piece of culture to people, it’s advice they need to heed immediately. When others suggest to me, I always agree to “check it out”, but rarely get around to following through.

This isn’t something to be proud of, behaviour deserving of a sad face selfie, but it’s especially crushing because I now know how it feels to be on the other side.

Me encouraging two small children to enjoy my recommendations.

You see, I recently made a new friend, something that can be awkward and confronting as an adult because once you’ve reached a particular stage in life, you’ve established your core group of people. Outsiders are treated with a degree of suspicion. However, according to almost every article on the internet, men are at most risk of feeling lonely, which is probably why I took up pickleball at the age of 35, an activity where you are constantly thrown together with new people and forced to make conversation.

It was at pickleball that I met Tyler, a guy my age who made a strong first impression by complimenting my volley game but, most importantly, seemed like A Normal Person.

A few games turned into a few more, and before long, we were playing together weekly, Tyler slowly transitioning from a random guy I saw at Tuesday night pickleball to my friend Tyler from pickleball.

In addition to liking ball sports, Tyler and I soon established other shared interests. We both enjoyed films set in New York, British (but not American) sitcoms, Japanese food and books about love triangles (but not Twilight, obviously).

Things really took off when he mentioned Adam Sandler being an underrated actor (hard agree), which naturally led to a discussion about Uncut Gems, objectively Sandler’s best film, but one Tyler had never seen. Desperate to prove how well I knew this relative stranger’s tastes, I ordered Tyler to go home that same night and watch it immediately, confident he would love it just as much as I did.

Later that night, Tyler sent a text saying he was preparing to watch the film, proof that he had taken my recommendation on board, and then … he never mentioned it again. Never discussed it in passing, never offered judgment; it’s as if the viewing never took place at all.

Initially, I tried to brush it off, but as time passed, it bothered me more, causing what can only be described as a recommendation-induced spiral. How can I be friends with this person if they don’t like the film I like and specifically thought they’d also like? If we don’t share similar feelings on this, do we share similar feelings on anything? Wait, what if I’m wrong and the film is actually awful? Uncut Gems is a stressful and anxious watch. Tyler likes Happy Gilmore, and this is sad Sandler, with sex, drugs and incredibly graphic violence.

After a month of biting my tongue, I mentioned it one pickleball evening, doing my best not to ask the obvious question: “Hey, just wondering why you hate me?”– and instead casually inquiring what he thought of Uncut Gems?

“Man, I never ended up getting around to it,” he said, lacing up his shoes. “But I definitely plan to check it out.”

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at [email protected] or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.