It is that time of year that introverts dread. Even with COVID-variant uprisings, holiday functions are still being planned and carried out. To be fair, some gatherings are outdoors. Others are limited to smaller groups or those where proof of vaccination is required. I recently went to a luncheon where all invitees had to take COVID-19 tests beforehand.
The survival of social gatherings is generally bad news for closet recluses, like me. But the silver lining is that I can decline invitations with no questions asked on grounds that I feel unusually tired, or I have been exposed to friends that have travelled recently. When I bail, the party’s host is not just sympathetic; he or she thanks me for my thoughtfulness. But outside of a pandemic, I feel compelled to accept invitations, and I am conscientious beyond reproach about attending.
Showing up to social events is something I learned long ago. As a freshman in college, I worked at a blue jeans store called, It’s the Levi’s Place. It was a part-time retail store gig, unremarkable in all respects other than the fact that I learned to fold denim pants with military precision so that they would align neatly when stacked up on shelves. We were a close and chummy employee group, and the store manager was a young woman only a couple of years older than I. She made a point to invite the employees to a small party she was hosting at her apartment during the holiday season, and I readily accepted.
The night of the party, I was invited to a different event that was more appealing, for reasons that I cannot remember. I suspect it was because the group of attendees was more familiar, and perhaps the male prospects were more alluring than hanging out with co-workers. So, I simply went somewhere else that night, and I did not tell my store manager that I was not coming over. I was mortified when my boss called during the party to see if I was coming. I stammered out an excuse and told her that I was not. Her feelings were very hurt, I could tell, and I realized that her group of guests was small, and that she had worked hard to prepare for us.
I have never forgotten, nor forgiven, my thoughtlessness.
But going to parties as an introvert is not always fun, especially events that have business or marketing implications. Entering a room filled with several hundred people, most of whom you do not know, is painful – but also necessary. I stall for time by hanging up my coat and heading to the open bar, where I make a soft drink selection. As I turn away from the server, the fun begins: trying to find a conversational group to join.
But I know that there are people just like me at these events, standing around like unpopular wallflowers, wishing that someone would walk up and talk to them. We worry that if we approach a group, the members will herd us out like human barbed-wire fences. These social eccentrics are my people.
These days, I seek out these misfits and toss them conversational volleys that are easy to lob back. When the chitchat wanes, I give them a smile and say, hey, let’s bust into that group over there, and see if we can mix things up. If they hesitate to join me, I just grab their elbow and joke that that they must come with me and keep me out of trouble. I often get a grateful grin in response.
There are still times when dressing up and driving to a large gathering in rainy day traffic is excruciating. But once I am there, the experience often surprises me. I brace myself for several hours of chatting about things that I care nothing about with people whose absence from my life would not give me pause. But sometimes in a glitzy, frenzied, artificial environment, I talk with someone, and the dialog magically shifts from attorney gossip or new caselaw or superficial business chitchat to something more honest and earnest. I listen to stories about interesting travel, emotional life journeys, or heartwarming family happenings. We find community in hardship and gratitude.
Maturity is a blessing, and my social graces have improved. But I am also better at setting boundaries on events that align with my energy – and my enthusiasm. I still say yes to almost all invitations, though I might mention in advance that my stay will be short. But I am grateful that people want me to come, and their willingness to host astounds me.
I am usually glad that I am not home in bed instead, eating popcorn and watching a Will Ferrell movie. Although sometimes it is a close call.