When You Wave at Someone Who Wasn’t Waving at You: A Post-Mortem
How to Survive the Stages of Post-Wave Grief and Prevent Future Social Casualties

Let’s set the scene: You’re walking down the street, minding your own business, when suddenly—OH!—a familiar face in the distance lifts their hand in what can only be described as a wave meant for you. Your brain, ever the optimist, bypasses all logic and sends an immediate command to your arm: Wave back. Wave back like your social life depends on it.
And so you do. You throw up your hand with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever spotting a tennis ball, your face lighting up with the kind of joy usually reserved for finding an extra chicken nugget in your takeout bag.
Then, disaster strikes.
Their hand wasn’t waving. It was adjusting their sunglasses. Or scratching their nose. Or, in the worst-case scenario, waving at someone directly behind you.
Time slows. Your smile stiffens. Your soul briefly detaches itself from your body to watch the horror unfold from a distance. And just like that, you’ve entered The Awkward Zone—a place where every microsecond stretches on for eternity and the only way out is to either commit fully to the accidental wave (pretending you definitely meant to greet them) or immediately pivot into an elaborate pantomime of "Oh, I was just stretching my arm!"

Why Does This Happen? (Besides the Universe Enjoying Our Suffering)
Science has a few theories about why our brains betray us like this. For starters, humans are hardwired for social connection—so much so that we’ll often hallucinate friendly gestures just to feel included. Researchers call this "gesture pareidolia," a fancy term for "seeing a wave where there is none, like some kind of socially desperate optical illusion."
Then there’s the "Midwest Effect," where people from overly polite regions (you know who you are) are conditioned to preemptively wave at anything even if it doesn't have a human face. Mailbox? Wave. Squirrel? Wave. Suspiciously person-shaped shrub? Believe it or not—wave.
The Stages of Post-Wave Grief
Much like Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s famous stages of grief, mis-wavers experience their own emotional rollercoaster:
- Denial – "No, they definitely saw me. They’re just playing it cool."
- Anger – "Who even waves like that? A half-hearted wrist flick? AMATEUR."
- Bargaining – "If I pretend I was actually waving at the tree behind them, will this go away?"
- Depression – "I’m never waving again. I’m never leaving my house again."
- Acceptance – "This will be funny someday. Maybe in 10 years. Or 20."
How to Recover (Because You Can’t Actually Move to Mars)
The key to surviving a mis-wave is commitment. If you’ve already thrown up your hand like a contestant on The Price Is Right, you have two options:
- Double Down – Keep waving like you absolutely meant to acknowledge them, even if they’ve now made direct eye contact with the person behind you. Bonus points if you add a cheerful "Heyyy!" to really sell it.
- The Fake-Out – Mysteriously transform your wave into a hair tuck, an ear scratch, or an impromptu jazz hands performance. "No, no, I wasn’t waving—I was just… celebrating the sky? Yes."
Famous Mis-waves in History
You’re in good company. Historical figures have also fallen victim to the accidental wave:
- Winston Churchill once enthusiastically tipped his hat to a coat rack, mistaking it for a dignitary.
- Taylor Swift famously waved at a fan… who turned out to be a mannequin in a store window.
The Silver Lining
Here’s the good news: Nobody cares as much as you think they do. Studies show that most people forget embarrassing social mishaps within minutes—mostly because they’re too busy worrying about their own awkward moments.
So the next time you find yourself mid-mis-wave, remember: You’re not alone. You’re not the first. And, most importantly, you’re absolutely going to do it again.
Now. go forth and wave with reckless abandon. The world needs your enthusiasm—even if it’s occasionally misplaced.
About the Creator
Just One of Those Things
Surviving adulthood one mental health tip, chaotic pet moment, and relatable fail at a time. My dog judges my life choices, my plants are barely alive, and my coping mechanism is sarcasm and geekdom. Welcome to my beautifully messy world.


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