Similar to me, the individuals we tend toward are mirrors reflecting back recognizable patterns. Friends we pick are those who share our humor; partners fit our suffering; coworkers confirm our perspective. Like broken-in shoes, similarity seems safe and pleasant.
Similarities, however, can turn into echo chambers. Surrounding yourself just with others like you blinds you, strengthens your prejudices, and confuses agreement for truth. Your bubble believes everyone wants what you want, sees what you see, They're exactly like me either deeply acknowledging or carelessly guessing.
Sometimes we force people into known templates because grasping difference calls too much effort, projecting similarity where none exists. We favor the ease of seeing ourselves in others rather than the hardship of meeting true otherness. Finding someone genuinely similar, who understands your references, shares your values, laughs at your jokes, feels like coming home. The consolation of not apologizing for who you really are, of not translating your experience, of not explaining yourself.