Susan Leslie

Clueless Extroverts, I'm talking about you

2008-04-22T08:11:00.001-07:00

I have never complained about being an introvert. We are superior social beings really, since we make an effort not to annoy other people. If we suffer socially, it isn't because we want to become more extroverted, it's because we get embarrassed for those clueless extroverts who don't know how irritating they are. They give regular, fun, social star extroverts a bad rap. You know, those people who start a conversation with you just to hear themselves talk, then move from topic to topic while your head spins and throbs as you look for the nearest exit. How anyone can be energized by this is beyond me.

This got me thinking about the differences between the Introverts (Is) and the Clueless Extroverts (CEs) beyond just personality type. This is about how the two can have completely different experiences in the same situation.

~ Is consider "how are you" the most basic of rhetorical questions, with only one possible answer.

~ CE thinks "how are you" is an invitation to launch into a run-down of everything they have seen, heard, felt or thought of in the last 12 hours.

~ Is would love to have lunch with you...until you invite three other friends.

~ CE doesn't need an invitation. If she finds out about the lunch, she'll be there whether you invite her or not.

~ For the CE, caller ID is necessary so she'll know when to put you on hold and answer her other phone.

~ For the I, it's a safety net to help us not accidentally answer when CE calls.

~ CE will ask you a bait question hoping you'll bite and ask either the exact same question, or one close to it because they have something they can't wait to share with you. Don't bother answering their initial question, they won't hear your answer.

~ The I will do everything they can not to take the bait. It won't matter, the CE will figure out a way to tell you what they have to say anyway.

Being a CE wouldn't be such a bad gig every once in a while. To not fret over every conversation and just dive right in and talk about oneself would be fun for a change. God, I can't even type that with a straight face.

CEs of the world, take a deep breath. At least make an effort to find other CEs to talk over and let us Is recooperate. You suck the life out of us and we need a break.

Quit trying to fix me. I'm an introvert, I'm not broken.

2008-04-21T04:30:00.001-07:00

I have more than one extroverted friend who sees my lifestyle as their charity project. As if getting the introvert out of the house is somehow akin to saving the whales. They never tire of trying to assimilate me into their extended group of friends, but I am holding fast.

When an extroverted friend asks "what are you doing next Saturday?" I come by a deeper understanding of the 'fight or flight' response. While I was once a little slow on the uptake, I've become fairly adept at blurting plausible sounding activities I'll be very busy doing. It doesn't matter though - they'll then utter a sentence I can't begin to grasp the formation of... "oh, because my sister's neighbor is having a candle party, you should come". That my extroverted friend would think I'd be interested tells me she has never listened to a word I've said.

I have grown up enough to decline these invitations, but it never ends there. It's nearly always followed up with "come on, it'll be fun, there'll be prizes" (oh, goody, prizes mean games!) or worse yet, "it'll do you good to get out". Oh, and there It is. The you're broken, you need to be fixed angle. Honestly, I don't need any overpriced sugar cookie candles, and I surely don't feel compelled to join the clutch in their 'adult conversation' -- which I've discovered means little more than talking in psuedonegative tones about the family they supposedly couldn't wait to get away from.

I have let my guard down and shown up as the 'bring a friend' a time or two. I'm not sure if it was the number of times I heard "ooh, smell this one", or just my general disdain for being there in the first place, but I came way too close to throttling the cheery little 'independent consultant' for asking me to self-address a postcard and sign up to sell the same crap she's hocking as her 'sub-independent consultant'. It might have made the party a little uncomfortable for a moment, but the quiet girl across the room nodded in my direction, which I took as a subtle showing of solidarity.

I've vowed to never go to another, so when I politely decline your invitation, please don't make me do it twice. There must be more pressing social causes out there, so notice that I am perfectly happy and content and don't need to be fixed.

Nix the diaper stories at the martini bar, please

2008-04-20T07:39:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while I am reminded why I am perfectly content as an introvert.

When I finally do get a wild hair and feel like being social, I head straight to a bar. I love the idea of being served whatever suits me that evening and talking to one of my handful of close friends.

At a trendy new bar, my friend and I were well on our way and deep in conversation when two of her friends sat down next to us. (I could go on about why extroverts are never happy one-on-one and always have to waylay you with surprise guests, but that's a topic for another post.) In a single breath, one of them ordered a martini up and slightly dirty and then seamlessly, while waiting for the concoction to be poured, launched into a narrative about how little Johnny has been giving his hapless day care provider fits by squatting in the corner instead of using the potty. Please help me wrap my mind around how these subjects can live in the same moment. Actually, never mind - that's a rhetorical question as the answer would possibly bore me more than the original, real-time account of the potty debacle.

It went on from there. More Johnny stories. Many more. It's a horrible, banal affliction that otherwise normalish people are cursed with, yet utterly oblivious to. How awful would it be to not get how annoying your stories are to others? (Sidenote: why are bores so loud?) I realize I am likely just as annoying in some other way, but I know it's not driveling on endlessly about my kids. It may be the fierceness with which I'll protect my free time. Or my mile-wide, three foot deep sarcastic streak. Perhaps its the furtive way I'll ask questions designed to put the onus for keeping the conversation going on you, so that I don't have to talk. Notice though, that I'll NEVER ask about your kids over a cocktail. Never.

When people (me) are out having martinis or any other fun, they (I) don't want to talk about your kids. Period. No exceptions. No innocuous teething quips, no day-care conundrums, no diaper mishaps. Ever.

The next time you start down this long, irksome road, please look around and notice that I am poking myself in the eye with my swizzle stick and trying to lodge my olive crosswise.