Taciturn introvert confesses
Are you a closet introvert, despite careful efforts to convince others of the contrary?
I am, despite nine years into masquerading as an extrovert by working as a newspaper society photographer (one of my multiple wardrobe of Democrat-Gazette hats, which also includes columnist). I’m still more prone to identify with that guy in the movie who fell in love with his computer than want to start up a Forrest-Gump-esque conversation with the stranger sitting on the bus bench with me.
Driving this point home to me was a 2013 Huffington Post article I encountered online recently — “Twenty-Three Signs You’re Secretly an Introvert.”
I had to say “I resemble that remark” to more signs than not, but it also showed me that I’m just one of a gazillion “secret” introverts … ahem, not that we’d want to be in a room with one another at the same time.
Take Sign No. 1, for instance: “You find small talk incredibly cumbersome. Introverts are notoriously small talk-phobic, as they find idle chatter to be a source of anxiety or at least annoyance.” That’s because it’s not long at all before we run out of things to say. We secretly hope the other person will be the one to do all the talking, then excuse himself, leaving us to save face. It’s like those ballroom-dance contests. We’re the rank amateur. We hope the other person will be the skillful dance-teacher partner who will compensate for our two-left-feetness.
No. 3 is a biggie. “You often feel alone in a crowd. Ever feel like an outsider in the middle of social gatherings and group activities, even with people you know?” Well, yeah. Because sometimes we find that even the people we know are engaged in conversations to which we find we can’t contribute … leaving us to ponder if we should continue to stand there awkwardly or slink off to furtively munch our plate of hors d’oeuvres behind a giant plant.
No. 4 got us where we live. “Networking makes you feel like a phony. Networking (read: smalltalk with the end goal of advancing your career) can feel particularly disingenuous for introverts, who crave authenticity in their interactions.” Ugh, yes. The business version of that seven-minute dating thing. It seems all wrong, a too-casual swapping of card-stock materials. And after we part company with that person, we’ll feel alone in a crowd again until the next card-waver comes along and terrifies us.
Ah, and No. 6. “You’re easily distracted. … and overwhelmed in environments with an excess of stimulation.” So that’s why, in situations where 17 things are trying to happen at once, we’re sweating and think-singing, “Old McDonald
had a farm — heeey Macarena!”
No. 9 resonates too. “When you get on the subway, you sit at the end of the bench — not in the middle. Whenever possible, introverts tend to avoid being surrounded by people on all sides.” True. But we’ll grab a middle seat, when we get tired enough of people stepping over us to get to the middle seats in our row. By the way, there are a lot of introverts in church.
No. 14 — busted. “You screen all your calls — even from friends. You may not pick up your phone even from people you like, but you’ll call them back as soon as you’re mentally prepared and have gathered the energy for the conversation.” All
these spammer-scammer calls from spoofed numbers provide us introverts with the perfect excuse for call-screening. One never knows when the spoofers might spoof the numbers of the people on that contacts list!
Another ringing bell is No. 16. “You have a constantly running inner monologue.” Says one of the expert story sources: “Most introverts need to think first and talk later.” Right. We’re the ones who’ll take an insult and think of a snappy comeback two weeks later. Rehearse what to say should we find ourselves on the receiving end of such an insult again. Rehearse what we’re gonna say to most anybody. Rehearse prayers.
Sign No. 21. “You’ve been told to ‘come out of your shell.’” To which we might reply, “Hey, dude, bet you wouldn’t tell a turtle/snail/ hermit crab that!” — two weeks later.
Next-to-last but not least? No. 22. “You’re a writer.” We’re especially fond of penning those snappy comebacks. Usually two weeks later.