TGIF

• "The 8 Health Habits Experts Say You Need in Your 20s";

• "The Urban Avenger vs. William";  and 

TGIF

• "Mr. Darcy, You're No Colin Firth";

•  This sounds disturbingly similar to my typical thought process; and

 

And the Oscar Goes To . . .

Very few believe that I'm an introvert. They cannot comprehend that I simply inherited a divine acting gene. 

It's not enough that the presence of too many people sucks the life force out of me; I'm also a "Feeler," meaning I'm always worried (to insane extremes) about people's feelings. Was I friendly enough? Did I just accidentally insult her? I was so focused on the pain of my shoes that I didn't see her come in—does she think I was intentionally ignoring her? 

That's why I'm zonked at night. Housework is less strenuous for me than all these mental machinations.

Susan Cain enlightened introverts worldwide that they are not alone, and that embracing their personality is okay; I was one of the redeemed. As was KJ Dell'Antonia ("Am I Introverted, or Just Rude?") 

But I can set aside my inclinations, and for much of my life, that’s exactly what I did. I came to the party. I made the small talk. And because I was raised in a world where manners mattered, I did more. I introduced myself to strangers. I approached the lone older family member at the wedding for a talk about the bride. I was a good guest, and when necessary a good host. I did my mother proud.

Oh, how we act. "Oscar," as Babi would say. But with introversion now being "cool," Dell'Antonia found herself refusing functions left and right—after all, she's an introvert, and needs to "self-care."

Society has a rich history of people seizing on social evolution as an excuse for bad manners. From the Romantic poets to the transcendentalists to the Summer of Love hippies, many have rejected a supposed facade of good behavior in favor of being true to their inner nature. Good manners are mere mannerisms, the argument goes, which serve only to put barriers in the way of deeper connections.

But then she felt guilty. 

When I skip big gatherings of strangers, I’m not just being a little rude to the individual people around me, I’m being uncivil in a larger sense. The more we isolate ourselves from new people, the more isolated and segregated our society is likely to become. . . 

When I asked Ms. Cain if self-indulgent introverts risked crossing the line into antisocial behavior — if we might, in fact, just be being rude — she laughed, and agreed. Sometimes, she said, “you have to consider the other person’s point of view instead of getting wrapped up in your own discomfort.”

Personally, I'm always freakin' worried about the other person (not that I don't slip up at times). 

This anecdote got me: 

Years ago, I was habitually late. “I can’t help it!” I declared to an expert in time management (I’d turned my effort to reform into a magazine article, as writers do, which gave me the excuse to seek professional help).

“Have you ever missed a plane?” she asked. I had not. “Then you can help it. You just care more about yourself than about the needs of others.”

Oh, snap. 

She concludes that "selfishness" is the gauge. Yet I found her logic to be a little . . . forced. If she doesn't go out, society won't be diverse enough? That seems a little dramatic. 

I would argue, as an exhausted Feeler, that there are plenty of social interactions with strangers that keep diversity going—like waiting in line to pay in Costco or T.J. Maxx, or traveling by public transportation. Luckily, frum Jews have further religious and social obligations that force us out there, like shul, simchas, parlor meetings, and yeshiva dinners.

And it's not like I loathe all social interaction. I like going to simchos when I have a connection there (otherwise I feel stupid). I enjoy it when invited out for a Shabbos lunch by pleasant hosts, and if they have invited other pleasant people, that's lovely. 

Be nice. Always be nice. Yet it is imperative to know your limits, and plan around them accordingly, so you don't go stir-crazy.  

TGIF

• "Learning to Swim at 75," by Lewis Grossberger;

• Nam nulli tacuisse nocet, nocet esse locutum: "It is harmful to no one to have been silent, but it is often harmful to have spoken."—Dionysius Cato; and so

TGIF

• Dating for anxious introverts, now in cartoons!;

• The Grumpy Introvert on: Making Friends and Losing Friends;  

• Katerina Plotnikova's photography is dope.

TGIF

Hibernation Rocks

"Are you sick?" Thing 1 asked me the other day. 

"No. Why do you ask?" 

"Because you're in pajamas." 

"What is the point of Sundays if I am not free to spend it in pajamas?" 

"Oh." 

 

Not only am I an introvert, I'm an early bird. I am—for the most part—content to potter about the house, and I manage to tick off most of my "to-dos" by 8:30 am. 

Molly Young opines ("Is Staying in the New Going Out?") how binge-watching and ordering in are now the usual "plans" for city dwellers. It's the ultimate way of staying safe—modest, guaranteed contentment, the middle path—as opposed to the extremes that "going out" harbor —

The upside is huge: You could have a life-altering adventure, meet your soul mate, find your new best friend. The potential downside is equally monumental. You could run into an ex, lose your wallet, suffer a grope, be rejected. The scope of experience at a party or a bar is, as the hedge funders might put it, high beta. We do it for the possibility of encountering the spectacular. This rarely happens. 

There are opportunity costs associated with chronic staying in, too. A year’s worth of weekends spent at home is a bit like never moving out of your parents’ house: At some point you have to leave the nest. Leaving the nest, even just to get outside, is how we grow, challenge ourselves and discover things that have not been tailored to our relevant interests by an algorithm. 

But I think of it along these lines: With the invention of Netflix and non-interactive means of ordering food, introverts have stumbled upon socially-acceptable heaven. Out of the closet we come—one-third to one-half of the population—forgoing the stress that outings usually exacerbate. It's not that technology has hypnotized the socially outgoing into abandoning their preferences, but rather it has provided the means for the introverts to morph into official homebodies.  

The extroverts, I guarantee you, are not being wooed by online streaming and cereal. They're still leaving the house and doing . . . stuff. Very possibly "living" more than my kind do, but that is a chance we are willing to take. 

So yes, we know what we’re losing when we hibernate. For proof, observe that nesting remains indefensible as an excuse; if someone invites you out, you can’t refuse by telling them that you’ve got “plans to stay in,” because a plan to stay in still counts as no plan at all. We burrow with a slight wince, in a blanket of mild contrition. But, oh, what a cozy blanket. 

No contrition here. 

TGIF

• "Making Marriage Work";
• "Naso, Relationships of All Sorts";
• "Dating While Introverted";
  
• "Introvert's First Date"; and
• Grumpy Introvert on Privacy and Dating. 

TGIF

TGIF

• Charlie Rose interviews László Nemes and Géza Röhrig of "Son of Saul," at the 25:08 mark;

• Notice the goodness of the world, not the bad;

• "Agromafia" (I'm getting my olive oil from California from now on); and 
• For us introverts, "How to make small talk."

TGIF

• The Introvert Song! 

   

• I'm so like the below. 

   

• The Shidduch Song?