Once, during a loud party full of people I barely knew, I managed to start and sustain a serious conversation. It was about law, I seem to remember. Sitting there on a couch with a kindred spirit while people stood, drinking, all around us, I was gently teased: I was quoting Adam Smith, at a party, instead of having fun. But I was having fun.
Many of my happiest memories are of lengthy, worthwhile conversations (even in inhospitable environments). The rest are of solitary pleasures: biking the length of Manhattan on a brilliant late summer Sunday, or reading for hours on end. Small talk, crowded, anonymous rooms, and pleasantries exchanged with strangers do not make the list.
I always thought these preferences were vaguely disappointing and embarassing, the result of grouchy, selfish impulses I should be curbing. Then Jonathan Rauch, writing in The Atlantic, set me straight. As Caring for your Introvert memorably and wittily makes clear, introverts are not shy or misanthropic. We really like people. Just not all the time.
And that’s ok. If you suspect that you or someone you know may be one of us, I recommend reading Rauch’s article. You may, as I did, find it welcome, and long overdue.
This Joyful Noise 