What Is ‘Crush-Fishing’? Fans Think Tom Brady Was Engaging In This Posting Behavior

Former quarterback Tom Brady was seen this past Sunday participating in the layperson’s elite Sunday activity: rotting in various locations around the house and posting.

“So this is what you do on a Sunday,” Brady wrote in the first of two selfies, including some 100 emojis and inexplicably adding The Killers “Mr. Brightside” as a soundtrack.

The next post, which he later deleted, was another cuddly selfie that wouldn’t be out of place on a college girl’s Snapchat circa 2014 (this I can confirm): “OK, major move… From couch back to bed…This is what Sunday is all about” he wrote, with several tongue-out emojis.

It was all very “felt cute, might delete later” of him.

The comments, however, were quick to acknowledge that this selfie display felt a little too familiar. A sudden change of the status quo of usual posts and a distinctly open (or cracked open for a specific person) door for interaction? “He’s posting like a girl who has a crush,” one X user said, sharing screenshots of the stories on Sunday evening, garnering 83K likes.

While there’s no confirmation about the “why” behind these posts from Brady’s perspective, the form of these posts certainly is reminiscent of behavior we’d call “crush fishing.” That is, when you post something to the public (or your close friends stories) that’s, in fact, meant to attract attention and even interaction from your crush. Think: the plausible-deniability-laced sibling of the thirst trap.

TikTok is full of stories of this crush fishing behavior, ranging from sweet (if misguided) bids for attention to preteen Photoshop absurdity.

Liz Hunter, a journalist and content creator, told HuffPost about a successful crush fishing expedition a few years back when she was traveling abroad and happened to be visiting the home country of her crush back home. This crush was off most traditional social media sites (a pretty elusive fish to try this move on), so she instead made a swap of her WhatsApp profile picture that made clear where she was visiting and waited.

“He did message me asking how the trip was going,” she said. “He wasn’t on regular social media, so I had to be creative with WhatsApp to get his attention.” Later, she even got a fun, flirty photo of the same crush posing with her dog back home while hanging out with her neighbor.

And, if you’re wondering, a successful crush fishing expedition does feel good: “Oh, I was delighted with him replying, it felt like we were on opposite sides of the world but still able to connect,” she said. “The neighbor sending the photo of him with my dog felt like a very covert way of flirting — and I sent him a message like ‘oh, I saw you were hanging with my dog’ and then he gave me tips on the best pubs/drinks to get in his hometown.”

To really get a feel for the pros and cons of this online behavior (why we do it and where we’ve seen it before), HuffPost spoke with relationship experts about what is really happening when you “crush fish” online.

“It’s a way to shoot your shot without actually shooting your shot,” certified dating coach Sabrina Zohar told HuffPost. “You’re putting yourself out there just enough that if they respond, great — but if they don’t, you have plausible deniability. ‘That story wasn’t for you.’ But it was. And you know it was. And they probably know it too.”

It can be a harmless tool in your flirting arsenal. Julie Nguyen, a certified dating coach at Hily Dating App, says that it can be “playful signaling” that functions like an “Easter egg.”

If it is, in fact, a crush fish, Nguyen said, “…Brady is doing something we do that feels familiar and human. That looks like posting an Instagram story at a restaurant you know your crush likes, or doing a hobby they’re interested in. It becomes an emotional chicken when it replaces directness.”

But both experts do draw the line at the behavior shifting from creating opportunities for connection to it being your primary M.O. for approaching the people you want to build intimacy with.

“If someone is consistently posting for a specific person but never actually engaging with them, it stops being playful,” Nguyen said. “The flirting turns into a low-risk, low-vulnerability game. At that point, it’s not confidence, it’s avoidance masquerading as confidence.”

Marcella G., who asked to use only her first name to protect her privacy, says she used to be a big crush fisher: posting about shared interests and bands she and her crush liked to hopefully spark up a conversation or interaction (when, she admits, she could’ve just texted them).

In recent years, however, she’s opted to delete Instagram six out of seven days a week to help separate a real connection from the floating green light of an Instagram story viewer.

“I do think it can be innocent, but I’ve also seen myself fall into the delulu of ‘if they see something they’re interested in, that’s a reason to talk to me’ when, if someone really likes you, they’ll just talk to you and don’t need a reason,” she said.

That observation gets to the core of Zohar’s concerns about the behavior: “The issue isn’t the behavior itself — it’s what it’s replacing. If this is your warm-up before actually saying something, fine. But if this IS your strategy, you’re practicing avoidance. You’re training yourself that indirect communication is safer than just telling someone you’re interested.”

Unsurprisingly, inconsistent indirect communication does next to nothing for building the true kind of intimacy the crush fisher is likely yearning for.

“The downside is that everything stays in the limerence stage. The connection lives in your head,” Nguyen said. “You start reading into views, likes and timing instead of paying attention to actual behavior. It can create a false sense of intimacy and delay real momentum, where you’re actually talking to the person and getting to know them in a meaningful way.”

When you crush fish for too long, you can also start to trick yourself into thinking of those micro-hits of validation as a viable replacement for intimacy. They become the thing you’re chasing more than the person you theoretically want to date.

“The most interesting part is the self-deception. People will genuinely swear that post ‘wasn’t for anyone’ while checking their views every few minutes looking for one specific name,” Zohar said. “Wanting someone’s attention is human. That’s not the problem. The problem is when you can’t even admit that to yourself. Because if you’re lying to yourself about something as simple as a crush, what else are you going to lie to yourself about when things get real?”

That’s part of the dysregulation that Zohar sees in this behavior too, where you’re not quite giving your body or brain the emotional honesty it needs to make sense of the situation.

“You post, they respond, and suddenly your whole day is made. You’re riding that high. But let’s be honest about what actually happened. They didn’t reach out to you. You prompted them. They gave you the bare minimum reply to something you put in front of their face,” she said. “That’s a breadcrumb, not actual interest. And now your nervous system is lit up over a response you manufactured. You’re outsourcing your emotional regulation to someone who didn’t even initiate contact with you.”

Both Zohar and Nguyen are quick to note that this behavior is not something spectacularly new, online or off. People have been dropping hints, casually showing up at places their crush might be and creating “spontaneous” opportunities to flirt forever. But like with so many things, the omnipresent and addictive nature of social media can make things a little more intense.

“These impulses always existed, just with less intensity,” Nguyen said. “People lingered in shared spaces. They dressed with a specific person in mind. They ‘accidentally’ showed up where a crush would be, went to parties knowing someone would be there, or found small ways to signal interest in public settings. Even things like setting an away message or carrying a book you knew they liked were subtle ways of being seen.”

“The impulse hasn’t changed. What’s changed is the scale and the ongoing presence of it,” she continued. “Because so much interaction now happens online, people can stay in the talking phase indefinitely. Crush fishing stretches things out and replaces real movement with signals, leaving everything suspended without anything tangible actually happening.”

It turns out, though, that the reason we might choose to take this route of low risk and low reward comes back to something weirdly simple and universal: the fear of rejection.

“It appeals because rejection feels survivable this way. If they view your story and don’t respond, you can tell yourself they just didn’t see it as an invitation. Your ego stays intact. You get to feel like you ‘did something’ without risking anything real,” Zohar said. “The downside is you’re building your relationship skills on a foundation of indirectness. You’re practicing NOT saying what you mean. And that becomes a pattern. People who crush fish often become people who can’t have direct conversations in relationships because they never learned how.”

For the seasoned crush fisher, breaking out of engagement bait habits might be a challenge, but both Zohar and Nguyen assure that people looking for real intimacy will benefit from learning how to really be vulnerable with the people we want connections with.

And that does mean learning to be a little bit brave and a little bit more comfortable with rejection.

“We’ve confused being visible with being vulnerable, and they’re not the same thing,” Zohar said. “Posting a cute selfie hoping someone sees it is not courage. Sending a message that says ‘hey, I’m interested in you’ is courage. We’ve built an entire system that lets us feel like we’re putting ourselves out there while protecting ourselves from the part that actually matters, the direct ask and the real answer.”

Zohar also recommended thinking of a crush fishing moment as a “bridge” rather than the whole destination: “It becomes a red flag when this IS your communication style. When you’re three months into liking someone and your entire strategy is hoping they decode your stories. When you’re more comfortable posting for them than talking to them.”

Nguyen reiterated that same red flag, adding that noticing your own feelings around the posts can also be a helpful indicator and urges you to reconsider your strategy “if you start monitoring reactions obsessively” or if you’re using posts to “provoke jealousy or control attention.”

“If the behavior creates confusion rather than clarity, it’s time to stop fishing and actually speak,” Nguyen said.

And, if you do a little fishing trip here or there on a lazy Sunday (we don’t judge), just don’t lie to yourself about it: “If you’re going to do it, at least be honest with yourself about what you’re doing,” Zohar said. “Don’t post the selfie and then pretend you weren’t checking every two minutes to see if they viewed it. Own it.”