Why Fobo is the new social anxiety
Do you have Fobo? It sounds like a furry, adorable must-have Christmas toy. In reality, it’s a much-needed label for a very particular, painfully modern social anxiety: the Fear of Better Options.
Most of us have sloped into the kitchen and opened the fridge door, intent on eating something only to gaze at the heaving shelves in stupefied silence, before closing it again and deciding that hunger is preferable to making a decision.
Well imagine that, but for almost every aspect of your life. Conceived by Patrick Mcginnis, the US venture capitalist, Fobo goes even further than its older cousin, Fomo (the Fear of Missing Out, anothermcginnis coinage), in having the potential to stifle everything from dinner plans to career progression, wardrobes to new relationships.
Fobo doesn’t care whether you’re trying to make aminor decision (peanut butter or
Marmite?) or a life-changing one
– it will leave you overwhelmed by the plethora of options. So here are six signs you may be Foboafflicted.
Your calendar resembles a Post-it note factory
In an ideal world, there’d be a lot of blank spaces with the occasional event penned in. ‘‘Carol singing with Omar’’, ‘‘Book club’’, ‘‘Joanna over for dinner [vegan]’’. In reality, your inability to neither say ‘‘no’’ to an event, nor fully commit to one, means there are labels all over the place.
A chaos of primary-coloured events splattered across the month, all to be narrowed down ‘‘nearer the time’’. Many are written in psychotically capitalised letters, and most finish with at least one question mark – though some have several, a code that makes sense only to you. ‘‘PANIC ROOM WITH WORK??’’... ‘‘Babysitting for neighbours [haven’t said yes]’’... ‘‘Felipe’s citizenship ceremony???’’ The only words that don’t feature are ‘‘Night in’’.
The Netflix page you stare at the most is the menu
It was going so well: you found that fabled clear tile in your calendar, you just about managed to choose something to eat from all the options on the Uber Eats menu, you have picked a sofa to sit on and now you just have to find something to watch. You opennetflix and your mind goes blank.
Some have called this ‘‘analysis paralysis’’, but that sounds too much like a lost Radiohead demo, so Fobo covers it. How can you click on The Crown when everyone was recommending The Good Place?
Wouldn’t it be more nourishing for your dinner party patter if you inhaled that documentary about the dark side of Bikram yoga? But then, you just want to relax, and Friends is right there. After three hours of scrolling, it’s time for bed.
You’re always dressed for anything, and nothing
The inability to choose between a hen party, the opera and a Soulcycle class does not make for an obvious wardrobe
Fobo doesn’t care whether you’re making a minor decision (peanut butter or Marmite?) or a life-changing one.
ensemble. Trainers with a LBD and a novelty phallic necklace just in case? Lycra shorts under a ball gown with an L-plate pinned to your tiara?
You’ve become adept at lugging around a bag that covers most options but the reality is that you’re prepared for nothing.
Your Christmas is more meticulously planned than Operation Overlord
It wouldn’t be beyond you to pull out a map, a compass, some string and a calculator to figure out how you can go to drinks on Christmas Eve, make midnight mass, see your parents first thing the next morning, cook lunch for your in-laws, go for a walk with your siblings, open presents with your children, see the Queen’s Speech with your nan, then still get to the French Alps on Boxing Day to go skiing.
You’ve turned down your dream job multiple times
It was the right salary, the right role, with good scope for progression, a nice-seeming boss, a fine commute, and it’s a company you’ve always dreamed of working for but there was something ‘‘off’’ about it, so you decided to turn down that promotion in order to see what comes up in the next few months.
You have a special ‘‘receipt folder’’ for everything you’ve bought over the past 28 days
And you never cut a label off. Because you just never know.
– The Telegraph, London