My neighbor is a kind and beautiful girl with whom I have much in common. Someone I’d call open-hearted. Someone with a really cute dog (whose name, I won’t lie, I remembered well before the girl’s). We both drive Jeeps, we both have tattoos, we both have history riding horses. We’re both Florida natives. We both, oddly enough, have an affinity for Carmel, California.
I really like my neighbor. I enjoy spending time with her, learning more about her, and the short but wandering conversations we have when we run into each other in the yard with our dogs.
But tonight, when I came home, I took the back entrance to avoid her.
Let me explain. Please. For everyone’s sake.
I had a busy day today. I went to work out immediately after finishing my workday, and to the grocery store to fill a prescription immediately after that. While I was waiting for the pharmacist, I went to the gas station, and then back to the grocery store to pick it up. By the time I got home I hadn’t been there in twelve hours. I’d been running around all day, hadn’t eaten much, and just wanted to get home, let the dog out, and make dinner and a glass of wine happen. When Odin and I run into Neighbor and Neighbordog, he gets distracted and won’t poop. And also Neighbor and I end up talking for twenty minutes — which is nice, but usually about double the length of time I’d have preferred, and has actually made me late for things a few times because I’m pretty bad at extricating myself from such situations gracefully.
Of course, everyone has busy days. Days when they just want to get their damn shoes off. Days when Netflix and flop — very distinct from Netflix and chill — is the only viable option. Days when they don’t have time to chat with a well-meaning passerby. (Well, most everybody. I know a few exceptional people who seem to never be out of time, especially for others, no matter how much they’re able to accomplish. I fully acknowledge that these are probably the best kind of people).
But in my case, it’s more than that. For me, not having enough time is the default rather than the exception. And I know that might make me sound like a callous asshole, but it’s by design. It took a long time for me to learn that saying “no” to certain interactions was imperative to creating space for the things I prioritize — fitness, cooking, books, writing, sunsets, time with my dog. It was a hard lesson to learn in part because saying “no” is difficult and generally frowned upon — we do everything we can to come up with easy-let-down excuses so as to avoid hurting each others’ feelings — and also because I have a very strong peference for the word yes, a door-opening word, a word that takes you places you never imagined you might go.
I’m still learning the best ways to say “no” (and how to choose more accurately when that word should be employed). It’s been a critical lesson for me, though: Everyone is busy — but for an introvert, social interaction, even when enjoyable, is another task on your plate. It’s a thing I have to be “on” for. You know that relaxed, yoga-pants-finally, bra-off, end-of-the-day feeling? That is incompatible, for me, with social interaction with anybody but my most intimate familiars. Furthermore, it’s incompatible with — and blocks my access to — the quiet time I need for creativity and self-centering.
That’s the definition of introversion and the thing that makes us distinct from our extroverted counterparts (who form a large majority of the population, by the way, in case we needed to seem any more aloof and strange): we recharge our batteries on our own time, internally. We need alone time to do so. Extroverts, on the other hand, recharge in the company of others.
Another definition I’ve seen: extroverts get their energy from external sources, wheras introverts produce energy internally. It’s like extroverts are consumptive organisms, like deer and wolves and lions, and extroverts are plants. We really like you guys and we can all exist in harmony, but no, we don’t need to go hunting or gathering with you (or, you know, accompany you to the bathroom), and sometimes, we just… need to be left alone. We’re trying to photosynthesize — and when you keep fucking talking all the time, you’re blocking out the sun.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I honestly enjoy the company of others. Hell, I’ve tested on the cusp of introversion and extroversion several times on the Meyers-Briggs. I even enjoy parties, going out dancing (sometimes, with the help of alcohol), and several other traditionally-extrovert activities — but they’re definitely draining experiences for me rather than regenerative ones. Being with people is hard work. It is hard for me to even conceptualize it otherwise — as I’m sure it’s hard for extroverts to understand the need introverts have to withdraw so thoroughly, and for such long and frequent stretches of time.
This is made even more complicated in my case by the fact that A) I’m also shy, which is a separate thing from introversion and one I do actively seek to change and B) I apparently don’t necessarily come off as an introvert in the first place, which makes me seem even more aloof and rude when I do take my space. I’m apparently good at the extroverted social cues when I want to be — when I’m strong enough to be. I hesitate to say “good at faking it” because I really, genuinely do enjoy the company of others. It just has to be on my terms.
This has frustrated a number of people who’ve ended up being very good friends of mine, but for whom it took a long time to figure out how I operate. There are many who have whittled their way into my life painstakingly and deliberately — taking more pains to have me as a friend than I deserve, for sure —Â and I’m grateful for those people. I’m sorry that it can be a pain in the ass to be someone who loves me.
But there are some things I wish more extroverts intrinsically understood about me. While I won’t say these are applicable to introverts in general — though I’ve heard many of my peers say similar things — I’d like to present some broad guildelines. With that said: Here are some rules for dealing with this introvert, in particular.
1. You absolutely, positively, cannot come over to my house unannounced unless you’re immediate family or someone I’ve been fucking and/or best friends with for at least two years — and possibly not even then.
2. Even if we’re friends, there are going to be times I’m not going to be able to answer the phone/come out this weekend/whatever. Probably a lot of them. It may feel like you have to actively struggle for and insist on our friendship. If you really need me and you let me know there is an emergency, I will be there for you, but my time and space is sacred — imperative for my health — and I need to take actions to ensure it stays existent.
3. The corollary to how difficult it can sometimes be to be my friend is that I don’t demand very much of my friends in return, save their love and support. If we don’t talk for a few months — hell, even a few years — I won’t hold a grudge. I even expect it. People get busy. Once you’re in my inner fold, it’s very, very difficult to lose me as a contact. I don’t have very many real ones, after all.
4. I’m almost always extremely self-conscious, especially around new people. I analyze and over-analyze everything I say, do, write, wear, etc. It takes me a long time to move past this discomfort. Speaking up at a meeting or making a phone call might be something I have to actively brace myself for. Please understand this.
5. If we are out somewhere in a social setting and I make up my “I need to leave now” excuse, you are being really terrible to me if you try to coerce me into staying. By the time I’ve spoken up, the social interaction has gone from enjoyable to labor-intensive, and I’ve spent a decent amount of time coming up with the right excuse. If I stay another hour due to your coersions — which make me feel more awkward than I already do — it will extend past the effort stage to the actual breaking point in my ability to deal with the social situation — and I’m much, much less likely to come out with you ever again. **NOTE: Since starting my new job, it’s been wonderful to hang out with fellow introverts, cuspies, and creative extroverts who at have least dealt with introverts a lot, and who consequently understand this and exert absolutely zero “aw, come on, stay out!”-type pressure.
6. If at all possible, except in certain, very specific counter-scenarios, IÂ strongly prefer text-based communication to vocal communication. Call only if there is blood involved.
7. My ideal scenario would be one in which I could be totally honest with you when you ask me to stay out longer or come to my door and ask what I’m doing tonight: to be able to smile and apologize, but say I need some time to myself tonight. That’s not really something that’s acceptable in this culture. I end up saying I’m “tired” a lot, which is an oblique kind of truth. It would be nicer if we could all understand each other.
8. A big party where I don’t know anyone is pretty damn daunting. A bar where I don’t know anyone? Less so. I’m completely comfortable being alone around people — until it becomes an imperative that I “mingle.” A related principle: I will probably never succeed at a career that is heavily dependent on in-person “networking.” Even after a year of grad school, I don’t know what “networking” is except getting a little bit tipsy, gritting your teeth, and shaking a lot of hands.
So there you have it: Not-even-10 commandments to help us all understand each other better and get along more smoothly. The introvert/extrovert dichotomy is becoming more of a household concept, and introverts are getting more positive airtime, becoming less misunderstood, less dismissed as cold and antisocial. Although extroversion remains the majority perspective — and perhaps the one most prized in American society — we’re moving toward a mutual understanding and a greater degree of tolerance and harmony.
But in the meantime, next time I tell you I’m tired, you’ll understand my code just a little bit better.
And seriously. Don’t call.