David Foster Wallace’s short story “Think” explores themes of human isolation, emotional disconnect, and mass-induced behaviours - a man on the brink of a seduction finds himself caught in a moment of profound self-awareness. Faced with a situation ripe for infidelity (a scenario involving "the younger sister of his wife’s college roommate"), he experiences an unexpected revelation.
As the woman approaches him, half-naked and with "a slight smile, slight and smoky, media-taught," he’s struck by something deeper. Instead of being seduced by the moment, he feels a sudden urge to kneel, almost as if he is humbled by a reality that escapes the usual expectations of such encounters.
I think that the detailed description of the moment: the man sees her expression as something straight from “page 3 of the Victoria’s Secret catalogue”, highlights the artificiality of the encounter. It’s not a real, raw human interaction; it’s rehearsed, fabricated—something that could easily exist on a TV screen or an advertisement.
In this moment, the woman says a three-word question (likely "What the fuck?") which reflects her confusion. The man responds, "It's not what you think I’m afraid of." But Wallace leaves the real meaning ambiguous.
What is it that he’s truly afraid of? What does he think she thinks? What does she think he thinks? The layers of perception are tangled, left for the reader to unravel. The narrator steps back, commenting: “She could try, for just a moment to imagine what is happening in his head… Even for an instant to try putting herself in his place.” Yet the task of interpreting these thoughts is left to us, the readers.
So, what’s going on in the man’s head? (What I think to be true)
The woman likely believes the man is hesitant due to marital betrayal or that’s what the “mass-induced opinion” would suggest, after all. But I think the man’s hesitation is born from something much deeper.
He’s not just afraid of the sin of infidelity; he’s terrified of the falsity of the entire situation.
The “mass-induced interaction”—it feels hollow, inauthentic. The man experiences a sudden need to feel something real, something that transcends the superficial and fake interaction. His urge to kneel is a desperate plea for human connection and humility, for something more profound than the shallow script he’s found himself following.
I believe at its core, “Think” contrasts solipsism (the quality of being very self-centred or selfish) with humility.
Don’t get me wrong, everyone is inherently self-centred and constantly navigates these “mass-induced interactions” in nearly every aspect of life. But more and more, I try to pursue what I believe fosters meaningful connections—escaping the media-fed narratives that shape much of modern behaviour.
What I’ve come to realize is that the “self alone” longs for genuine connection, for a real interaction that goes beyond surface-level performance.
“Know the words for everything and the meaning of nothing.”