The Umbrella Theory: One Major Con (pun intended)

Having started in on this theory of mine, I realize that it is far more multidimensional than last I checked.  In fact, like a character in one of my novels, it has started to grow a personality of it’s own.  I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever be free of it now that I’ve given it a voice, but really, do I want to?  After all, it is a part of me and I of it.

Today though, I feel compelled to take a moment to point out the biggest flaw in my own plan.  While I have adapted to a world largely run by extroverts with my handy “umbrella”, at the end of the day there is no escaping that it can keep me from what I want nearly as well as it can help get me through a long day full of required small talk.

The greatest flaw is that sometimes I am a little too good at opening my umbrella and convincing people that I am as easy going as society might demand.  It makes for a much easier job, and I truly love when I can find common ground with people.  Just the other day, by engaging in my own method of projecting that piece of me that I have decided to share with everyone, I found a fellow German.  (I will dedicate a post some day soon to how the Umbrella Theory just might stem from this very noticeable difference between me and most everyone around me).  If I had been the anti-social person that my core often demands, I would never have known.  Instead, I was able to chat for fifteen minutes – and not be exhausted! – about our mutual homeland.

Did this lady think me social? Yes.  Did she think me an extrovert?  Probably.  But what happens when I instead relate to a fellow introvert by this crafted projection?  Does that introvert think me the extrovert?  And if there is mutual attraction, does he think I’m the one to make the first move?

At thirty years old and still single, I would have to think that there is some logic to my dilemma.  Pinterest tells me that the true match to an INTJ is an extrovert who won’t take no for an answer.  While those same extroverts have asked me out, and I have developed relationships with a few, it is the fellow introverts that hold onto my heart for the longest.  And either I have the singularly worst timing on the face of the planet, or I am too good at presenting a side of me that is only a drop in the bucket.

So I have to ask myself, is it my taste in men?  While I enjoyed my time with the extroverts, I never felt my heart ripped to shreds.  Or is it because I fall hardest for those who are like me and seek a quiet connection, but in the midst of reaching out to the world, I give them the wrong impression?

And in the end, does this make it all one giant con?

Oy, I think I need a drink now.

L.E.

My Poor Extrovert Friends…

To break the ice, I’ll start with a joke.  Here goes:

Two introverts walk into a bar…nope, that’s not going to work.  First of all, what introvert is going to a bar?  Let alone two of them.  I don’t speak for all socially uncomfortable people, but I do speak as an introvert, and I hate going to bars, sometimes even restaurants.  I’m not anti-social, that’s not what an introvert is.  But I am uncomfortable in forced small talk.  And the awkwardness of bars…let’s just say no.

This means, basically, that it takes an extrovert to first be my friend, or it takes several weeks of knowing an introvert to finally be comfortable enough to make a connection that will last.  My two best friends are both extroverts.  Our paths crossed, and they were willing to breach my “resting bitch face” personality to et to know me.  I love them both dearly, and I wouldn’t change a thing, but it can make communication awkward at times.  I’ll go into detail in future blogs about the hows, the whys, the intricate little details, but for today, I want to get a thought out there and let it be seen.  And I know that even though they don’t actually shake their heads at me, both of my friends would truly love to.  And maybe roll my eyes.  Give me a kick in the butt, something.  The ways of my mind are far different than theirs.

Case in point:  when an introvert has a crush on a fellow introvert, extrovert friends the world over pull out their hair and try really hard not to yell at us for being idiots.  For the sake of privacy, I’ll alter names a bit here.  But really, I’m just saving my own tender feelings.

I happened to like a guy, let’s call him Will.  We have known each other long enough that I can safely say that we have had successful conversations.  Many times.  However, we don’t see each other as much anymore.  When the inevitable separation was approaching, my friend, let’s call her Andrea, told me that I just had to tell him how I felt.  Well, that’s really not an introverts forte.  I told her as much.  She asked if he was likely to say anything.  I explained that I was actually the more extroverted party.  Pretty sure at this point, she rolled her eyes.

Well, when you’re a thirty year old introvert, and the prospect of not seeing one of the few men who you actually enjoy conversing with at any frequency approaches, you find yourself compelled to try.  I tried.  It didn’t work.  The cold voice of logic might step in here and point out that he wasn’t as interested as I thought.  I’ll cede that point.  But then there are the little moments that linger.  We work maybe two blocks from each other.  We see each other at least once a week.  But in true, awkward, introvert fashion, we never speak.  I’ve finally mustered the courage to wave just as he turned down another street.  Just the other day, we were passing, he made to wave, I hit my head on my car and had to duck down to grab my glasses.  He awkwardly turned the wave into something else.

Let’s be honest.  At this point, we’re both screwed.  What we need, if there is indeed hope, light at the end of the tunnel, what have you, is to have one of our extroverted friends step in and call us the words we deserve to hear, but live in mortal fear of actually hearing.  It is not easy being an introvert.  It really isn’t.  And the longer this thing goes on, there really isn’t a more descriptive adjective, the more ridiculous it becomes.  At what point do you seize the energy of an extrovert and say “hello”?  At what point do I actually walk into that bar?  At what point do I swallow this nearly overwhelming fear and channel my inner extrovert.  At what point do I finally show my extrovert friends I was listening?

I tell myself it will be the next time I see him.  And you know what, right about now I hope I’m right.

Signing out to go and be by myself in true introvert fashion…

L.E.