So, if you look at all my scores from every “type” test I’ve ever taken, I land right slap at the crossroads of Introvert and Extrovert. Some have scored me a socialized extrovert, meaning I’m naturally introverted, but have learned to fake it. Others have scored me an extrovert who is unusually into her own navel. If you ask me, I’m just a Me-trovert.
That is, I want to do what I want to do, when I want to do it, regardless of the number of people attached to whatever that thing is.
I want to go to a movie. No one else does? Fine by me. I’m going to a movie.
I want to go to dinner. No one else does? That’s why god made books and salt shakers to rest them against.
I want to go dancing. No one else does? There’s a club full of people out there just waiting for me.
You want to go to a movie/dinner/dancing and I don’t? Have fun. I’ll be here at home and later we can talk about what an awesome time you had. Not going to hurt my feelings if you go without me.
I can hang either way. I’m good in groups and one-on-one…if I like you. If I don’t? Well, I’ll pretend to be good, but I’m really clocking the exits and planning my escape. It’s got nothing to do with quantity, and everything to do with quality of people.
I can be whatever is necessary for the moment. I don’t think I am any more exhausted or energized by crowds. I am exhausted by exhausting people in ones and tens equally, and energized by energizing people in whatever their numbers. I mean, would you rather be stuck in a room with 40 interesting, awesome people you love, or 1 person you can’t stand?
Then, I also have no problem going and sitting down quietly in the middle of a party. The only issue with that is misplaced pity from people who think I’m shy, sad, or too introverted to have a good time. I’m having a good time. I’m just having it sitting down over here because I got tired of standing by the punch bowl, wondering what to do with my hands.
The worst is when you go to a party and it’s a 50/50 split of people you like, and don’t. You know the guy who is telling you jokes, and you want to just smile and nod, while you are picking up cauliflower from the crudite tray and stuffing them in your ear canals? I don’t like getting stuck talking to that guy. Worse is when you realize you ARE that guy. You’re just talking, talking, and you realize the person facing you is looking around wildly, clocking the exits.
I’ve been on both sides of that coin, more times than I care to say. It’s a good thing I can enjoy my own company, for all those times when no one else can.
The Outside Lane 