The "Catch-Up" Ritual — Script (Unfiltered Edition)
The one where politeness becomes a getaway car.
“It’s not a plan.
It’s not a promise.
It’s a socially acceptable lie.”
INTRO — The Verbal Smoke Bomb
Right. Let’s talk about the most dishonest sentence ever invented by humans who want to escape a conversation without consequences.
That little verbal smoke bomb you throw when you’re desperate to run away.
“We should catch up.”
Not now. Not soon. Not ever. Just… at some unspecified point in an imaginary future where everyone suddenly has the energy and the genuine interest to actually care about each other.
You don’t say it because you mean it. You say it because silence would be awkward and honesty would be “rude.” Because saying “I don’t actually want to see you again” would make you the villain of the story, and God knows you’re obsessed with being the hero of your own mediocre movie.
So instead, you smile. You nod. You say the magic words like a well-trained dog.
“We should catch up.”
It sounds friendly, doesn’t it? It sounds warm. Like a promise.
But it’s not. It’s a socially acceptable lie we’ve all agreed to respect—a verbal handshake with zero intention behind it.
You say it at the end of conversations that should’ve ended ten minutes earlier. You say it at weddings, at funerals, or after bumping into someone you haven’t thought about in a decade and won’t think about again in ten minutes.
And the best part? The other person says it back. Not because they want to, but because they understand the ritual.
Two adults, standing there, lying to each other’s faces with professional-level dedication, pretending this means something.
No one pulls out their phone. No one checks dates. No one follows up. Because deep down, everyone knows the translation.
“We should catch up” doesn’t mean “I want to see you.”
It means: “This conversation is over and I’d like to leave now without feeling like a bad person.”
It’s a clean exit. A way to vanish while keeping your reputation as a “nice person” intact.
And if you’ve ever said it with that fake, high-pitched enthusiasm—“Oh my god, yes, absolutely, let’s do it!”—while you were already planning your escape route… congratulations.
You’re fluent in the language of human bullshit.
You’re not connecting; you’re just performing.
And I think we both know which one you’re better at.
MAIN — A Social Exit Strategy
Alright. Hello again.
If you’re still listening, good. That means you didn’t immediately pretend your phone vibrated just so you could escape. Growth.
Now let me ask you something—how many times have you said “we should catch up” and already knew, in your soul, that this was never going to happen?
Not “maybe,” not “it depends,” but never.
You said it with a smile, with perfect eye contact, with fake enthusiasm… and zero intention.
Because “we should catch up” isn’t a plan; it’s a social exit strategy.
It’s what you say when you don’t hate the person, you don’t like them enough to keep talking, and you definitely don’t want to look like an asshole.
So you choose the coward’s middle ground.
You lie politely.
Think about how this happens.
You bump into someone you used to be close to—or at least close enough to remember their name—and you do the quick recap:
“How are you?”
“So busy.”
“Yeah, same.”
And then there’s that pause.
That dangerous, suffocating pause where someone has to say something to end the encounter without it feeling brutal.
And boom.
Out it comes.
“We should catch up.”
And notice how nobody ever follows it up. No dates, no messages, no “hey, about that thing we said.”
Because both of you understood the silent agreement.
This wasn’t a promise.
It was a ceremonial goodbye.
Like waving at a train you’re relieved to see leave.
And the best part is how convincing we are.
“Oh my god, yes, absolutely! Let’s text soon!”
Soon when?
During the apocalypse?
You say it with the same hollow tone people use when they say “take care” to someone they will never think about again.
And don’t pretend this only happens with strangers; we do this with friends too.
People you haven’t spoken to in years, but you still feel socially obligated to pretend the relationship is just “paused.”
It’s not paused.
It’s dead.
But saying “this friendship ran its course” feels dramatic, so “we should catch up” feels nicer.
Social media made this worse—now you don’t even have to disappear; you just like a story every six months to prove you’re still “connected.”
You don’t talk.
You don’t meet.
You don’t care.
It’s just emotional hoarding.
Let me check something with you.
Think about the last person you said this to.
Be honest—if they messaged you tomorrow saying “Hey, let’s actually catch up,” would you be excited?
Or would your stomach drop while your brain immediately starts drafting excuses?
That reaction is the truth.
And look, I’m not judging you from the outside. I’ve said this sentence more times than I can count.
Sometimes because I was tired.
Sometimes because I didn’t want conflict.
But every time, I knew exactly what I was doing.
That’s the part no one likes admitting.
“We should catch up” isn’t optimism.
It’s avoidance wrapped in politeness.
It’s how adults end things without having the courage to say they’re over.
The reason it works is because everyone agrees to play along.
So next time you hear yourself saying it, pay attention.
Not to the words—
but to the relief you feel right after.
That relief isn’t hope.
It’s escape.
OUTRO — The Translation
Alright. That’s enough social lying for one day.
If you’re still listening, congratulations—you didn’t fake a smile and slowly back away. Rare skill.
Now, before you go back to your life pretending certain relationships are just “on pause,” I want you to do one thing.
Think about the last person you said “we should catch up” to.
Not the one you actually meant—the other one.
The one where you said it and immediately felt that rush of relief because the conversation was finally over.
Yeah.
That one.
Now imagine they text you tomorrow: “Hey, let’s actually do it.”
Be honest.
Did you smile?
Or did your soul quietly leave your body?
Exactly.
Here’s what I want from you.
Go to the Unfiltered Outsider socials — @unfoutsider — and send me the most honest version of that sentence.
Not the polite one. Not the fake-friendly mask.
The translation.
“I didn’t want to keep talking.”
“I don’t actually want to meet.”
“This relationship is done.”
No context. No justification. And definitely no long story about how “busy” you are—we already covered that scam.
Just the truth you didn’t have the balls to say.
And if your instinct right now is “wow, that sounds harsh”—congratulations.
That’s exactly why you lied instead.
Next episode, we’re doing this again.
Different sentence. Same human nonsense.
Because apparently, this is the cycle we’ve chosen.
So follow. Subscribe. Or don’t.
I’m not here to hold your hand.
But don’t you dare walk away pretending you didn’t recognize your own reflection today.
See you next time.
Or… you know.
We should catch up.
Uninfluenced. Unpaid. Unfiltered.
I’m Noah B Jackman, and this is the Unfiltered Outsider.
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