My extended family is a collection of all sorts of personalities although we skew toward the introvert side. There have been some marriages that brought in an infusion of extrovert (or the dark side as we call it). I call it gypsy blood but every nationality has their extroverts.
At a recent family gathering I was looking around at the group. The conversation was dominated by the extros while us intros sat back and watched the entertainment. Every once in a while we’d throw in a zinger. We were all enjoying it.
As the gathering took longer than expected (or even reasonable) the difference was apparent. Us intros were getting wild eyes. The kind that signals an implosion of sorts. The kind that will require alone time to recover. Maybe even a nap. A long nap. Some cat cuddles or wine. It was people-y (especially for someone like me with a 90-minute butt).
On the other hand the extros were rocking into it. I swear they brought their toothbrush and jammies just in case.
Makes me curious just how that happens. Genes and chromosomes. Nature and nurture. Whatever. (There are some folks in my extended family that I swear were swapped out at birth!)
There was a time I wished I was more outgoing. As I got older I was better at it (and my job required it) but I still hate the small talk at parties. Banal conversation is boring but necessary as you search for the right topic to connect. (That brings up some very disastrous dating experiences but that’s another post!)
Sometimes you never connect. Sometimes it’s more about being entertained by the outrageous. Sometimes it’s about looking at your watch to determine a suitable “leave” time.
These days I rock who I am. No regrets. If you invite me, remember I have a 90 minute butt.