You wonder why the strange-ness exists. It is a curious thing. There are instances when you notice a slight change in temperament, a slight recognition of a building annoyance. You cannot even discern it wholly. It just 'is'. You realize that there is a difference in their reactions. They are enthralled. They want determinedly to get to know him. They are determined to try and absorb him, immerse him in their beautiful, ceaseless pool of camaraderie. They are so cool, so effervescent, they are so impeccably nice. It is virtually difficult to notice even the slightest glitch - not a single slip of tongue, no discourtesy, not even the smallest lapse of acknowledgement. The ingratiation is so perfect, it is just too good. It's good because it is completely honest. So true-to-form and so engaging, so sociable, so appeasing.
This is why you are suddenly ungrateful for all the kindness, all the hopefulness. You want to torture their senses, to thrust them away, shock them out of their niceties, savage their friendliness. You want to repudiate every little act of goodness you receive. None of it is even remotely self-harm. It cannot be for the ingratiation isn't directed at you, it isn't yours in the first place. But you want to ravage it nonetheless, maybe especially since it isn't yours. You want to soil the soft core of their loveliness. Why? Because it is so threatening. They refuse to notice the transcience of it all. They refuse to say that one day it could no longer be there. When that happens, you know that they will be antagonistic. They will think you are cruel, foolish and reprehensible. They will tell you off, just you, no one else. That is when you will feel the need to have distanced yourself. To have defended yourself - earlier, and more sensibly.