I'm not a half-wit; I'm an introvert

Every now and then I’ll dine alone. I might see people I know that I could eat with or chat with. But I still choose to be alone. Let me reassure you this column is not the beginning of a suicide note but a reflection on introverts and the prickly effect on the extroverted population.

First, let me come clean. I know it would be a bit of a stretch to call someone like myself, who spews snarky columns for public consumption, an introvert. My primary job as a reporter is to interact with new people every day, so I know it seems even more implausible I could be considered an introvert.
I eat most of my lunches alone for the most part, and it’s not because I am planning out my World of Warcraft raid for the night or thinking which building would be the best to go postal on. It’s just that I’m not about to start talking to just anyone, and prefer to relax in the confines of my mind thinking best about what I am going to rant about next.

Talking to people is tricky. It requires a lot of energy for introverts. There’s all the rules, the social protocols, trying to be witty, trying to keep the person interested and not saying something dumb that might come back to haunt you at some point.

I don’t want this to be all about me because I know plenty of you don’t care. Chris, you say, you annoy us with your grievances. I’m only reading this because I’m looking for fodder for my angry online comment later.

Here’s the thing, it’s not that introverts are arrogant or judging everyone in the room. Some may have scathing glances and upturned noses, but that’s definitely not the majority. The majority are happy inside their heads.

We re-energize by being alone where extroverts relax in the company of others. When an extrovert’s tired, he might still go out to party. When an introvert’s exhausted, there’s no way he’s going any other place than home to be alone for a while.

It’s important to note introverts are perfectly capable of putting on a pretty face and entertaining. I head out to parties now and then. I’ll even talk to someone I have never seen or met in my life. I can be daring and attract attention — I once drank and quickly vomited three liters of blue crème soda for just that reason.
As a general rule, introverts hate small talk. It doesn’t serve to accomplish anything other than getting to know a person on a skin-deep level. If you really want to talk to an introvert then you got to talk deep. The conversations I enjoy are the ones where I don’t have to think about social niceties and instead can focus on the topic at hand. So go deep or don’t go at all when talking with an introvert.

Here’s the real issue: Introverts know how extroverts function. To have a good time some people need to be around others constantly and a night spent at home alone is a night wasted. I understand that and accept it and harbor no feelings of resentment toward my extroverted counterparts.

However, extroverts don’t seem to get introverts. Extroverts, when confronted with an introvert, think there’s something wrong with that person. Why don’t you want to go to the party? Why are you eating alone? Why don’t you talk to someone? Whats-a-matta wichoo? Is everything OK? Why are you being like that? I have heard all these questions before. I am not being like “anything.” I am being me, and while introverts can grasp the fundamentals of extroverted behavior, extroverts cannot reciprocate the understanding. Let me repeat: there’s nothing wrong with introverts. They just don’t need constant social attention, and may even hate that sort of thing.

I know already I am eating my words. I understand the irony of writing a public column about not needing social attention. Maybe I am not as introverted as I say I am, but I do understand there’s nothing wrong with the workings of an introverted mind.