[ Image: Sascha Schneider’s “Hypnosis” painting from 1904 depicts an extrovert (left) making best friends with an introvert (right). ]
There’s a saying: “Just because a woman is nice to you doesn’t mean she is hitting on you.”
A form of this concept applies to introverts, extroverts, and friendship.
This past weekend, an old friend visited from out of town. We talked for 12 hours straight. We could have gone on longer. No problem there.
But as an introvert, I struggle with making new friends in real life.
So I do my best. I go out a couple of times a week to events, stores, clubs, etc.
I can do small talk, and I enjoy meeting people. (And yes, I have read every goddamned book about it.)
But it’s rare for me to initiate. I might nod, flash an awkward smile, or say, “How’s it going?” — and then I wait. Sometimes, I give a compliment. “Hey, I like your… what is that, a sweater? Oh, it’s not a sweater? Sorry.”
Mostly, nothing happens.
The problems, as far as I can tell:
1 – I’m pretty darn selective about who I even want to talk to.
2 – I don’t know how to approach strangers. If it’s a group, I feel like I need to be invited in. Otherwise, wouldn’t that be invasive? Like, who is this weird guy?
3 – I can’t think of anything to say. I don’t have an “in.”
So I stand around by myself, hoping someone will walk up and talk to me. (I’m probably causing other introverts the same problem.) Then, I drive home feeling rejected and alienated.
(It doesn’t help that I’m a tall, serious-looking dude with Resting Introvert Face.)
So: I tend to only meet EXTROVERTS.
Why?
Because it takes a very outgoing person to leap over the mote. To break through the invisible anti-social bubble I’m imprisoned in.
That means it’s rare for me to find connection.
But it’s not rare for extroverts to find connection. They have that with everyone.*
They talk to strangers. Doesn’t matter who they are. Every day is a parade of new “friends” marching into their lives.
I always forget… if I meet an extrovert, they probably didn’t choose to talk to me for any special reason. They don’t like something unique about me. I just happened to be standing there when they were talking.
But I fall for it every time. Hooray, we had a conversation! We shared! We listened to each other! Someone is interested in my inner world! Reciprocation!
I soon discover they’ve got dozens (maybe hundreds) of other “friends.” They collect and cycle through as many novel friendships as possible.
They are big in my world, but I am small in theirs.
I usually figure this out when they ask very personal questions of (and make best friends with) our Lyft driver. 🙁
Oh, no! They use their Extrovert Friendship Hypnosis Death-Ray on EVERYONE!
This is now a predictable pattern in my life.
I do not have a solution other than demoting that sort of friend to “acquaintance.” And trying to be thankful for whatever level of connection there is.
But in my own totally subjective opinion, friendship must involve two things:
1 – scarcity
2 – an outgroup
Because if friendship is unlimited in supply, and everyone is your friend — the term becomes all-inclusive and meaningless.
(As in: if everything were blue, we wouldn’t need the word blue.)
I think it’s a better philosophy to focus my best attention on a few close friends and family. Why dilute it with Compulsive Friending?
*I realize this is a generalization. And that introverts are not necessarily shy, extroverts are not necessarily outgoing, etc. But as Cal Newport says, “Let the reader disclaim.” Oh, wait.
I say just keep being yourself. You only need to initiate conversation with those you truly want to. Being yourself is what initiated me to say “CARL KING! Hello!” at the NAMM show so many years ago. I wanted to meet that guy and hopefully get to know what made him tick. I was genuinely excited to see you in person after only being familiar with your online works. You owe it to yourself to be yourself and to accept only that which is acceptable to YOU. I could be considered a “compulsive friender,” but I reserve CLOSE friendship to only those who are worthy.