I came upon scalzi’s meditation on what it means to be an introvert during today’s spin through my carefully-crafted preferred subset of the internet, and recognized a lot of myself in the description. Not that I was necessarily surprised by this, I’ve been well aware that I’m an introvert for some time now (I’ve tested pretty consistently INTJ on Myers-Briggs style inventories over the years) . The professional writer does, however, come up with a better description of said affliction than I, a mere amateur, could manage.

It’s not that I am an antisocial misanthrope. It’s just that I (along with introverts the world over) find social interaction, even supremely pleasant social interaction draining and exhausting, and need time alone to recharge afterward in order to function properly. It’s not that I can’t function socially – I am quite able to speak before a large group and appear generally competent; I’ve performed in musical combos in front of some VERY large groups, and have not failed pathetically*. I even occasionally ENJOY interacting with people, particularly people with whom I share common passions.

The difference between me and the much-admired “people person” with the “gift of gab” that society lionizes (the typical extrovert) is that I simply don’t get off on it**. Even if it’s enjoyable, it feels like work, and as a result, I need to go off on my own in order to decompress and rebuild a charge before I’m able to dive back in to the socialization pool. If I don’t get this regular “alone time”, I can become somewhat testy***.

Being of this particular personality type (INTJ = introverted intellectual), I tend to spend a lot of time analyzing and projecting possible scenarios about how my introverted tendencies affect my lot in life and how I react to the world at large. Extroverts, who make up a marjority of the population, tend to find my lot aloof because we sometimes find things like empty small talk intimidating or tedious. Even when this is explained to them, it doesn’t sink in. They may even listen politely, but they just don’t get it.

This article does a good job of explaining this phenomenon: introverts, who, as a result of their confort with their own thoughts in quiet reflection, understand that not everyone is like us, and that others relate to the world differently. The extroverts, on the other hand, can’t quite fathom that anybody would ever want to be alone. This causes a bit of an impediment to useful relations between these orientations. I guess it’s kind of like the theory Douglas Adams voiced through Ford Prefect (toward the whole human race, though it could certainly apply in this narrower case): “If they don’t keep on exercising their lips…their brains start working”.

Maybe that’s a little cynical…but there’s some level of truth to it. Maybe that’s why introverts like me tend to enjoy the company of our own kind when we find each other. Usually through an intermediary medium, that allows each of us to feel in control of our personal level of interaction, not unlike, say, the internet.

*** – my wife (also an introvert in her own way) would probably characterize this description as “dramatic understatement”. In reality, comparisons to The Incredible Hulk or Katie Kaboom would likely not be unreasonable.