Why We Need to Stop ‘Orbiting’ People We Date in 2026
This story is part of our ‘Habits to Embrace—and Ditch—in 2026’ series. Read the whole list here.
Chances are that without scanning Reddit or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, you’ve heard of orbiting. The dating trend occurs when an offending party delivers a steady stream of casual, low-effort pings of attention to one or more romantic interests with the intention of keeping them engaged but at arm’s length. Though not an entirely new phenomenon, orbiting has become more pervasive thanks to swipe culture and social media. Being orbited can feel wildly destabilizing, even to a veteran of the dating scene like me.
Last spring, I met Matt, a tattooed art director, at a gallery opening, and we immediately hit it off, texting and meeting up for hours-long conversations about everything from The White Lotus conspiracy theories to our family trauma. After a few weeks of an intense romance, I woke up in his Brooklyn apartment and sensed that something had shifted. And after that morning, our pattern of communication changed: Whereas before we were texting daily, swapping smoothie recipes, and making plans to go on a psilocybin retreat in the woods, now our communication shifted to a slow drip, replaced with the occasional fire emoji on my Instagram stories. The sudden, unspoken shift was disorienting, and I began to overanalyze our tepid interactions, wondering: Is he into me or not? And if he’s not, why is he still in my DMs?
The confusing sting of rejection aside, I was fascinated with this development. As a creative, intellectual, sensitive, wellness enthusiast, it seemed out of character for Matt to exist in this liminal space, hovering around a potential like-minded partner but pulling back with each meaningful interaction. I wondered if he was actually happy with assuming the role of the orbiter, and how it served him. After some self-reflection, I also noticed that I was orbiting other men I was dating too. Was any of this making either of us happy?
To better understand what’s behind the behavior, I reached out to Brianna Paruolo, LCMHC, the founder and clinical director of the teletherapy practice On Par Therapy. She said that, while orbiting behavior might offer a sense of comfort, it’s ultimately a protective mechanism. “Keeping someone in your orbit gives you the illusion of options and control,” she says. “What’s happening behind the scenes is a sabotaging or prevention of experiencing genuine connection.”
Even so, it’s easier than ever to fall into the habit of orbiting without realizing you’re doing it. Maybe you tell yourself you’d like to stay in touch until you’re more emotionally available, or less intensely focused on work. But even if you’re not in a place to commit, orbiting can still be damaging to you in the long run, according to Dr. Amir Levine, the coauthor of the international bestseller Attached. Dr. Levine says repeat orbiters may be enacting insecure attachment patterns of relating and dating. Orbiting might mean you have a so-called avoidant attachment style. (The four primary styles are anxious, avoidant dismissive, fear-driven avoidant, and—the ideal—secure.)
“With insecure patterns, you can feel uncomfortable with too much closeness and pull away after an intense connection,” says Dr. Levine, who is also the author of the forthcoming book Secure: The Revolutionary Guide to Creating a Secure Life. It doesn’t help that there’s an (outdated) cultural feedback loop that says it’s the norm for men to pull back and deprioritize romantic relationships. “In reality, that mindset allows insecurity to fester,” says the doctor.
