The “Bored Uncle Theory” Just Affirmed That My Guy Friends Were Right—My Situationship Wasn’t Sexy, It Was Just Boring

The Crosby Street Hotel is too lavish for the chaos ensuing inside of it. But it’s 2021, Manhattan is a ghost town, and luxury hotels are practically giving away suites. Enter: the perfect excuse for me and my degenerate friends—class of 2020 grads—to escape quarantining with our parents. We pile into the room with a handle of Tito’s, passing around shots in mouthwash cups we swiped from housekeeping. 

My phone buzzes. Liam.

Not an actual text, of course—just the tease of a Snapchat notification, probably a blurry ceiling shot with zero context. It’s a half-hearted ping that means nothing, but my stomach flips like I’m on the Super Dooper Looper. Ethan clocks me immediately. “Oh no. Don’t tell me it’s that weenie again.” He continues, “Bro’s running the same tired games from college. Aren't you bored?” Jason nods his head in agreement. “If a girl left me on read for days, I’d block her before she hit send. Not worth my time.”

When I was 23, I brushed their comments off. But five years later—and many leading-to-nowhere texts from Liam—I wish I could’ve told my younger self to pay attention: My guy friends were trying to say my “relationship” is far too boring to invest in.  

Coined in the video above by Margarita Nazarenko, the premise is simple: Instead of twisting yourself into knots over inconsistent behavior (like a “wyd” text from Liam at 10 pm on a random Thursday), you allow yourself to get bored. Instead of over-analyzing why he takes three business days to respond, treat him the way you’d treat an uncle at Thanksgiving—politely disengaged, vaguely uninterested, already thinking about something else.

As Nazarenko explains: “When a man disrespects you, mistreats you, doesn’t return your calls, it triggers something in us from childhood. We need to chase it. We need to win them over, to make sure that in their eyes, we’re seen as worthy.” But this theory acts like a slap in the face—in the best way possible. It forces you to zoom out and see the situation for what it actually is, not the version you’ve romanticized in your head. 

Here’s the trick to adopting the “uncle” mindset: Imagine you’re at Thanksgiving, and your egotistical uncle Bob won’t stop droning on about his golf swing or some job title you still don’t understand. You nod, maybe toss in an occasional “Oh, nice”—but you’re not actually engaging. You’ve learned that Bob is never going to ask a single question about your life (and that his stories are about as bland as the mashed potatoes.)

So, applied to your dating life, when your guy goes radio silent, you treat him like Uncle Bob. When you start to feel pangs of doubt, you view him like Uncle Bob. Per Nazarenko: “When you’ve been bored of his behavior again and again, he becomes like that uncle at Thanksgiving. You’re not going to give him the energy of being mad, of over-explaining, of blocking him and unblocking him. You just…move on.”

The core of this mentality is to “make your life so damn interesting” that his behavior quite literally feels like a nuisance. If you fill your cup with meaningful friendships, a career that excites you, or even just a really good book, you don’t have the bandwidth to ruminate over half-hearted attention. Things that once felt like thrilling signs to decode—his sporadic texts and irresistible flashes of affection—now feel as exciting as watching paint dry. You realize that not hearing from him is simply… boring.

And this is precisely why Bored Uncle Theory hit me like a ton of bricks. Back in 2021, I didn’t have a name for it, but over time (and thanks to my brutally honest friends), I naturally grew tried of Liam’s antics. I realized I wasn’t clinging to him; I was clinging to the chaos. Yet, the moment I stopped obsessing over why he hadn’t texted back, the truth became glaringly clear: there was nothing interesting about this dynamic. In fact, by the tail end of our relationship, I found myself wishing he’d lose my number. 

So in short, Nazarenko shines a light on a lesson I had to learn the hard way: When you stop chasing, silence loses its mystery—it becomes tedious. You recognize that you have better things to do than dissect a blurry ceiling pic. And honestly? I think it’s time we shift the conversation from “if he wanted to, he would.” It’s about whether you want to waste your time waiting for him to figure it out. Bored? Thank you, next.