The psychology of secret attraction: Why some men hide their true feelings

A few years ago, I sat across from someone I used to know—really know. We were catching up over coffee after nearly a decade apart. Nothing about the conversation was romantic, yet something lingered beneath the surface. She laughed in that same off-guard way she used to. Our eyes met longer than necessary. There was a flicker of hesitation when we said goodbye. And it hit me: back then, she had liked me. And maybe I had liked her, too. But neither of us had ever said a word.

That moment stuck with me—not because it was dramatic or full of regret—but because it was so quiet. So restrained. And yet, full of meaning. It made me reflect on all the ways we hide attraction. Not just from others—but from ourselves.

It’s easy to assume that if someone doesn’t say how they feel, it must mean they don’t feel anything. But what I’ve come to understand is that some of the strongest emotions we experience—desire, longing, love—often show up in disguise. Especially for men. Especially when identity, ego, or fear are at play.

So why do people—particularly men—hide their attraction? What’s really going on under the surface when someone seems drawn to you, yet stays guarded or aloof? And what does Buddhist wisdom reveal about this peculiar emotional paradox?

Let’s go deeper.

When fear disguises longing

Attraction isn’t always expressed through pursuit. Sometimes, it looks like withdrawal. Ambivalence. Care that hides behind sarcasm. Interest that morphs into awkward silence.

From a psychological perspective, this pattern is often rooted in attachment style. Men with avoidant or fearful-avoidant attachment may deeply crave intimacy—but simultaneously associate closeness with vulnerability, loss of control, or even shame.

According to researchers Mikulincer and Shaver (2007), individuals with avoidant attachment strategies tend to suppress emotional expression. They’ve often internalized the belief that showing affection—or even acknowledging desire—makes them weak or dependent. So when they do feel attraction, they may shut it down, redirect it, or bury it under layers of self-protection.

This isn’t just about shyness or pride. It’s about emotional safety. If expressing interest risks rejection—or worse, the dismantling of a carefully constructed identity—then silence feels safer.

But repression doesn’t mean absence. Often, desire leaks through the cracks: in eye contact that lingers a second too long. In subtle shifts in tone. In that inexplicable tension that fills a room without a single word spoken.

The identity we protect at the cost of connection

This is where Buddhist wisdom—specifically the principle of Anatta, or non-self—offers a radically clarifying perspective.

In the West, we often operate with a fixed idea of who we are: I’m the confident guy. I don’t get attached. I don’t chase. These identities aren’t inherently bad, but when we cling to them too tightly, we start to sacrifice authenticity for consistency. We trade vulnerability for control.

The Buddha taught that the self is not a static, permanent thing—it’s a collection of thoughts, habits, stories, and conditions. Our suffering, he said, often comes from identifying with these stories too strongly.

When someone hides their attraction, they’re often trying to protect a fragile sense of who they think they’re supposed to be. The man who stays silent might not just be afraid of rejection—he may be afraid of becoming the kind of person who feels too much. Who wants too much. And so, he clings to a mask of detachment, even as his heart quietly pulls him in another direction.

The tragedy is this: the more we cling to the illusion of a fixed self, the more we distance ourselves from real connection.

Reading between the silences

If you’ve ever sensed that someone is secretly attracted to you, yet acts distant or unreadable, you’re not imagining things. But interpreting those signals requires nuance.

Psychologist Dr. Monica Moore, who studied courtship behavior, found that many people—especially men—exhibit subtle, even unconscious signs of attraction before they ever act on them. These can include:

• Prolonged or repeated eye contact

• Mirroring your body language

• Subtle grooming or adjusting clothes

• Appearing nervous or overly composed around you

• Finding excuses to be near you—but not engaging directly

But here’s the catch: these signs don’t always lead to overt action. Why? Because action threatens the fragile equilibrium of the internal story: I’m fine. I don’t need anyone.

This is especially true in cultures or subcultures where emotional expression is stigmatized. In many cases, attraction is repressed not because it’s absent, but because it doesn’t fit the narrative a person has built around their self-worth, masculinity, or control.

As someone who’s both misread signs and missed them completely, I can tell you: what matters isn’t just learning to decode other people—but learning to sit with ambiguity.

What I didn’t see then — and what I notice now

Before I began studying psychology and Buddhist philosophy, I used to take everything at face value. If someone didn’t say they liked me, I assumed they didn’t. If I liked someone and didn’t tell them, I rationalized it away: It’s not the right time. It’s just a crush. I’m probably imagining it.

But the truth is, I was afraid. Afraid of being seen as needy. Afraid of being rejected. And more than anything, afraid of what it would mean to admit I wanted something I couldn’t control.

Now, when I reflect on the relationships that never happened—or the ones that did but stayed surface-level—I don’t feel regret so much as understanding. I see how often we both held back. How much energy we spent trying to preserve our pride. How little space we gave to honesty.

When I work with clients now—or when I write about these dynamics—I try to offer this: The most powerful thing you can do is be honest with yourself. Even if you don’t act on your feelings. Even if nothing comes of it.

Because attraction repressed becomes tension. But attraction acknowledged—even silently—can become clarity.

Not every mystery needs solving

So what do you do if you suspect someone is secretly attracted to you?

First, get quiet. Tune in not to their actions alone—but to your own body, your own intuition. How do you feel around them? Energized? Confused? Grounded? Anxious?

Second, don’t make it your job to pull the truth out of someone else. If they’re not ready to own their feelings, that’s not your burden to carry. Trying to decode every word or action becomes a form of suffering in itself.

Instead, practice mindful awareness. Stay grounded in your truth. You can notice signals without needing to act on them. You can feel desire without needing to resolve it.

One reflective prompt I often return to is:

What parts of myself do I silence when I focus too much on someone else’s silence?

And if you’re the one hiding your feelings? Maybe today’s the day you let go of the identity you’re clinging to. The “cool” one. The “unbothered” one. Maybe there’s freedom in simply admitting—at least to yourself—that you care.

The takeaway: where longing meets awareness

We spend so much of our lives trying to avoid emotional risk. But in doing so, we often miss what’s real.

When someone is secretly attracted to you, they’re not just hiding their feelings. They’re protecting a version of themselves they think they need to be. A version that says: I don’t want this. I don’t feel this. I don’t need this.

But Buddhist wisdom teaches us: there is no fixed self. Just a flow of conditions, reactions, stories.

And when we loosen our grip on those stories—even for a moment—we create space. For honesty. For presence. For possibility.

Not every desire has to be acted on. Not every mystery needs to be solved. But the more aware we become, the less we need to protect ourselves from love in disguise.