Living ‘horn up,’ but not always
I thought I was an extrovert — until I met my wife. I enjoy people. I talk to strangers. I love speaking in front of large groups. But I also can get my energy easily zapped, and I would much prefer an amazing conversation with one person than small talk with lots of people.
I am, it turns out, an extroverted introvert.
When my wife and I first met, she loved how easily I fit into her friend group. But one night she complained that I was “holding court:” “You just stayed in one spot and waited for people to come to you,” she said.
She felt the move was snobby. I felt like I wasn’t imposing myself on people.
She lives to work a room, and I love that about her. I will happily work one when required. But I have no need to.
At her big promotion party, I went from person to person with her and made the right jokes and told charming stories. But, if I had my druthers, I would have stood in one spot and spoken to anyone who spoke to me and hoped for at least one connection deep enough to allow for conversation beyond shop talk and the weather.
The great thing about being an extrovert is that you get your energy from being around others, and so you are driven to connect with them. But when being around too many people drains you, it can be hard to muster the oomph to insert yourself into conversations and already-established groups at parties or events.
Now, anyone who knows me in real life — or even who reads my writing about all my many adventures — is likely shaking their head as they read this. “You’re not shy,” they’re saying, with a roll of their eyes.
And they’re right. I’m not shy.
It’s just that when I look at a room, I think, “Who will welcome an intrusion, and who might make for good company?” I’m looking for an energy boost rather than a zap.
And, yes, I am an overthinker:
“Are they in a private conversation?”
“Will they want to talk to me?”
“Should I just wait and see who wanders my way?”
When my wife looks at a room — well, she just talks to people. I envy that. And sometimes, I channel that. But mostly, I muster it.
If you saw me in person, you’d likely describe as an extrovert. I’m good with people. I’m easy going and friendly. I’ve never met a stranger, and I enjoy getting to know people and what they love and what makes them tick.
But here’s the thing: Just because someone is good at something, that doesn’t mean they find it easy to do. But I don’t mind a challenge.
Since I do travel and go to events alone, I have made that challenge one I have to accept, unless I want to spend all my time not speaking to a soul (which sometimes I do) or go to a party and stand in the corner alone (which I do not do).
So, I put myself out there. I just do it in my own way.
I channel what I like to call “That Unicorn.”
(Pardon what might appear as a shameless plug for my book by the same title. But the thing is, it’s true. People I talked to about it found the idea so relatable that I wrote a book about it.)
“That Unicorn” is the person who walks into a room and everyone wants to be around. They make everyone feel good about themselves. They are confident and open and friendly, and they love getting to know people.
They live life, well, horn up.
It’s not that I’m not “That Unicorn.” It’s not that I’m faking it. It’s just that my inner introvert sometimes needs a little pep talk. Sometimes she even does need to fake it, at least to get the ball rolling. And knowing that we all have “That Unicorn” inside us helps us to do that. And having a partner who seems to always be able to do it and yet still support my not doing it doesn’t hurt either.
I recently went to the Charleston Wine and Food Festival. Although one of my besties was meeting me there in a few days, I had a few events to tackle alone. I knew I would miss out if I kept to myself, so I jumped in, and I joined conversations, and, yes I admit it, I had a really good time.
One evening I met a chef who was at that night’s event on her own, and so we spent the entire evening together and had a blast. The next day, I struck up a conversation with the girl in the salon chair next to me when I was getting a haircut, and she ended up joining me for an event that evening. We had the best time. So much so that
I learned to like pinot noir.
And, the next day, I walked up to two women who happened to be standing outside of my hotel and asked if they already had a Lyft ordered for the event, and if so, might I join them. We shared the ride and the day. We talked and laughed and had a great time drinking too much and not eating nearly enough.
The next day, my friend arrived, and, as always, we spent the rest of the weekend attached at the hip and continuing to meet lots of great people, all the while eating and drinking all manner of wonderful things.
And when the festival closed and we said good-bye to our new friends and one another, I felt grateful for my ability to honor who I am and still push my comfort zone so that I never miss out. I am equally grateful for a partner who respects and loves me — whether or not I’m feeling horn up that day or not.