Immigrant Learns American “Friendliness” Expires After Three-Sentence Exchange

West African discovers polite Americans don’t actually want to talk

The Friendly Mirage That Broke His Spirit

CHARLOTTE, NC – Abdul Rahman thought Americans were the friendliest people on Earth—until he tried making actual friends. The 32-year-old accountant from Ghana spent his first month in America delighted by strangers saying “Hey, how’s it going!” before learning this was not an actual question requiring an answer but rather a greeting-disguised-as-inquiry that would cause visible distress if answered honestly. “Someone said ‘How are you?’ so I told them,” Rahman recalled, traumatized. “I explained my day, my challenges, my concerns. They backed away slowly. I later learned I was supposed to say ‘Good, you?’ even if I was dying. This is lying. You call this friendliness. I call this confusing.”

In Accra, when someone asks how you are, you tell them—your health, your family, your concerns, your joys, everything. The conversation lasts 15 minutes minimum. In Charlotte, “How are you?” means “I acknowledge your existence” and the correct response is “Good!” delivered while already walking away. Rahman learned this after three weeks of confused Americans fleeing his detailed responses.

When Small Talk Has a Time Limit Nobody Mentioned

According to social psychologists at American Psychological Association, Americans engage in “phatic communication”—speech designed for social lubrication rather than information exchange—which explains why they ask questions they don’t want answered. Rahman discovered this phenomenon at a grocery store when a cashier said “How’s your day?” He began explaining. She scanned his items faster. He continued talking. She handed him the receipt mid-sentence. He realized he’d been dismissed while still responding to her question.

Jerry Seinfeld said, “Why do they call it a building if it’s already built?” Rahman wants to know why they call it a question if you’re not supposed to answer it. His American coworker taught him the “polite response protocol”: someone says something, you make a pleasant noise, you both move on with your lives. “You’re not actually communicating,” Rahman protested. “We’re acknowledging each other’s presence without meaning,” his coworker explained, as if this was normal.

The Neighbor Who’s Very Nice But Also Very Gone

Rahman’s neighbor, Mike, seemed perfect—waved every morning, always said “We should grab coffee sometime!” Rahman, excited, suggested times. Mike looked panicked. “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m super busy this month, but definitely soon!” Rahman later learned “We should hang out!” is American for “I’m being polite but don’t actually want to hang out ever.” This phrase has been exchanged between Mike and Rahman 14 times. They have never had coffee. Rahman has stopped believing in American time.

Dave Chappelle said, “Sometimes the absence of evidence is not the evidence of absence.” The absence of actual plans is evidence that Americans don’t mean their friendly words. They mean “I’m socially obligated to seem interested in you, but I’m not, and I hope you understand this unspoken rule I’ll never explain.”

The confusion peaked when Rahman’s coworker said “We should totally have you over for dinner!” Rahman bought a bottle of wine and texted asking when. Three weeks later, he’s still waiting for a response. The wine is room temperature. His expectations are lower. He’s learned “We should do something!” means “We will never do anything.”

When Surface Friendliness Hides Deep Indifference

Rahman joined a gym where everyone was incredibly friendly—smiling, nodding, saying “Great workout!” Nobody learned his name in five months. “They’re friendly to the concept of me,” Rahman explained. “Not to actual me. It’s like customer service but for human relationships. You’re nice enough that nobody complains, but not engaged enough that anyone remembers you.” He tested this by telling gym regulars his mother died. They said “Sorry to hear that, man!” and continued their sets. She hadn’t died. He was testing their friendliness depth. He found it: one sentence deep.

Chris Rock said, “You can’t have no success without no haters.” Rahman can’t have real friendships without real conversations, but Americans seem allergic to both. His attempt to discuss anything deeper than weather or sports at a party resulted in people slowly forming a circle around him—not to join the conversation but to contain the discomfort he was creating by trying to have an actual discussion.

The Coffee Shop Where Everyone’s Friendly to Their Laptops

Rahman frequents a coffee shop where regulars nod at each other daily but never speak beyond “Hey.” After six months, he tried talking to the guy who sits near him every Saturday. “Hey man, what are you working on?” Rahman asked. The guy looked like Rahman had asked for his social security number. “Oh, just uh, stuff,” he said, then aggressively put in headphones. Rahman learned Americans bring laptops to public spaces not to be social but to be alone together—close enough to feel like they have community, far enough away that nobody expects actual community.

Bill Burr said, “I’m not going to apologize for being right.” Rahman’s not apologizing for wanting actual friendships, but Americans treat friendship requests like spam emails—acknowledged, deleted, forgotten. His American friend (his only one) explained: “Americans are friendly but not friends. We’re nice to everyone but close to no one. It’s efficient.” Rahman thinks it’s sad, but his opinion wasn’t requested, so he kept it to himself, like a proper American.

The loneliest moment came at a barbecue where everyone was “super friendly”—laughing, joking, including him in conversations. He left feeling empty. Nobody asked about his life, his family, his real thoughts. They asked where he was from (West Africa—they didn’t ask which country), how he liked America (fine—they didn’t ask what he missed), and if he’d tried barbecue before (yes—they didn’t ask about his country’s food). The conversation was friendly and completely hollow.

When Friendship Requires Scheduling Six Weeks Out

Rahman learned that American friendships require calendar invitations sent 3-6 weeks in advance. Spontaneous visits—normal in Ghana—are considered borderline illegal in America. He once stopped by his friend’s house unannounced. His friend opened the door looking like Rahman was the police. “You should’ve texted first,” his friend said. “Why?” Rahman asked. “I was nearby, I thought we could hang out.” His friend explained he wasn’t “mentally prepared for social interaction.” Rahman is still processing how friendship requires mental preparation.

Amy Schumer said, “I’m not saying I’m lazy, I’m saying I’m energy efficient.” Americans aren’t energy efficient with friendships—they’re energy-avoidant. They’ll text “Let’s catch up soon!” and then never follow up because following up requires effort, and effort requires caring, and caring requires being actual friends, not just friendly acquaintances who perform niceness without substance.

The Group Chat That’s Very Active When Nobody Has to Actually Meet

Rahman joined a “friend group” chat with five people. They text constantly—memes, jokes, support, “We should all hang out!” It’s been eight months. They’ve met twice. Once for 90 minutes because someone “had to get going,” and once for dinner that lasted exactly long enough to eat food and leave. “You’re friends online but strangers in person,” Rahman observed. Nobody disagreed. Nobody changed anything. The group chat continues. The actual friendship does not.

Kevin Hart said, “Everybody wants to be famous, but nobody wants to do the work.” Everybody wants friends, but nobody wants to do friendship. They want the appearance of friendship—the social media posts, the group texts, the birthday wishes—without the actual work of being present, vulnerable, or consistently available. Rahman’s friends from Ghana call him weekly, talk for hours, share everything. His American friends text him memes and say “We should catch up!” They never catch up.

The final revelation came when Rahman stopped initiating. He wanted to see if his American friends would reach out. One person texted after three weeks: “Hey stranger! We should grab drinks!” Rahman suggested a time. The person never responded. The friendship was always one-sided; Rahman just couldn’t see it through all the surface friendliness.

When Loneliness Hides Behind Smiles

Last month, Rahman’s American friend admitted he’s lonely despite knowing “tons of people.” Rahman understood: knowing people and having friends are different. Americans know everyone and befriend no one. They’re friendly to hundreds and close to maybe three. They prioritize convenience over connection, schedule over spontaneity, and keeping things “light” over getting real. The result is cities full of isolated people who wave at each other while suffering alone.

Trevor Noah said, “In Africa, we take care of each other.” Rahman agrees: “Here, you take care of yourselves. You have 400 Facebook friends and nobody to call when you’re struggling. You say ‘How are you?’ but don’t want the answer. You invite people over ‘sometime’ but never actually do. You’re the friendliest lonely people I’ve ever met, and you don’t even realize it because everyone’s doing it. You’ve normalized isolation and called it independence.”

When asked if he’ll adjust to American friendship culture, Rahman sighed while video-calling his friends from Ghana who’ve known him for 20 years and still show up unannounced just to talk. “I don’t want to adjust,” he said. “You people have mistaken politeness for warmth, acquaintances for friends, and scheduling for caring. Back home, friendship means showing up—literally, consistently, without appointment. Here, it means texting ‘thinking of you!’ and then thinking of you zero additional times. I’d rather have three real friends who answer when I call than 50 friendly Americans who smile, wave, and forget my name the moment I turn around. Your friendliness is beautiful. Your friendship is exhausting. One is a greeting. One is a relationship. You’ve mastered the first. You’ve outsourced the second to group chats and birthday calendar reminders. And then you wonder why you’re lonely at parties surrounded by people you call friends.”

SOURCE: Bohiney Magazine (Aisha Muharrar)

DATE: 11/11/2025