How to party if you're shy, socially awkward - or just plain boring

The party girl: Lucy Mangan

Fanny Brice was right. People who need people are the luckiest, at least during the holiday season. Imagine, if you will, wanting to go to a party. Imagine knowing that you will have a great time - that the simple experience of being around people fills you, of course, with joy and contentment. May you come home with a spring in your step, a song in your heart, a smile on your lips - refreshed, restored, rejuvenated and ready for the next one.

This this is what life is like for the majority of the population. And then there's us. The introverts. People who don't need people. People for whom people, en masse, are the worst thing imaginable. A stranger is not "just a friend you haven't met yet". It's a sentence that makes no sense to us. A stranger is just someone who keeps us in a room, a situation we don't want to be in, probably with music and certainly away from our books and our own toilets.

I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again and keep saying it until everyone listens and understands: the clinical definition of an introvert is someone who is exhausted by social interaction (apart from a few very limited conditions). An extrovert is someone for whom it has exactly the opposite effect. So it follows that just as you wouldn't force the latter to decline invitations and stay, the former shouldn't be required to accept them and walk out.

In a just world, this is how things would be. Alas, we do not live in a just world. Self-protection measures and avoidance maneuvers must therefore be deployed if we introverts are to save our sanity and our limited abilities to socialize with the few people we actually want to socialize with.

The first and most valuable of these is to deny the existence of the holiday season. Yes, the world and its chosen methods of marking various socio-religious-pagan dates are designed for extroverts. But that doesn't mean you don't have any agency. Decline as many invitations as possible. Use fake excuses (keep a spreadsheet if needed) or God's honest truth, depending on who asks. If there are two things on the same night, say yes to both, then realize your "mistake" later and mourn them both. Only if the hosts don't know each other, of course. Use common sense.

But there are always events you can't avoid, whether they're related to family, friends or the office. Then you just need to stick to procedures to minimize core abrasion. None of them are great, because you've already had to shower and put on clothes and stuff to attend, but it's better than nothing, and soon you'll be home in joggers, slippers and clothes. warm embrace from Brooklyn Nine-Nine, I promise. Here's how to deal with it:

1. Throw yourself in. No, listen to me. You arrive there. You enter. You make a loud noise and deal with all the vaguely familiar faces you see ("Oh my God! It's been forever! How are you? / You look beautiful! / Oh, wow , look at us!", etc.), using each like a pinball machine uses a cushion - pushing towards the next one, never stopping, keeping the momentum going as you cross to the bar, grab a drink then go to – no one. You ride the wave of expectation you've created – no one who made such a joyful entrance and now has a drink in their hand could dream of leaving? – and slip away. Much pain , sure, but a lot of gain too.

2. Ask people questions. Gossip is the real bane of an introvert's life. Fortunately, you don't have to you don't have to commit to it much. Just ask someone a question about themselves, fix a look of interest on your face, and they'll happily talk until until you both die. But you can make your apologies before that. With a bit of luck. Be mindful, however, of your own state of mind behind the mask. The particular mix of boredom, rage, and contempt that parties induce is highly toxic, and you can easily die after just a few minutes if you're not watching things.

3. Create a Cushion of Solitude When you know something shitty is coming, get ready. Do not go out several days (or weeks, months, whatever your required mileage) in advance and do not plan, FFS, to do anything in the days (weeks, months, etc.) that follow. Keep a bunch of old positive lateral flow tests handy for emergency apologies.

4. Go to the bathroom As it sounds. Just go to the toilet. You can go to the toilet once per person. They don't know the last time you went - or if they do, it's probably some fetish stuff and so they're unlikely to call your behavior past...

How to party if you're shy, socially awkward - or just plain boring
The party girl: Lucy Mangan

Fanny Brice was right. People who need people are the luckiest, at least during the holiday season. Imagine, if you will, wanting to go to a party. Imagine knowing that you will have a great time - that the simple experience of being around people fills you, of course, with joy and contentment. May you come home with a spring in your step, a song in your heart, a smile on your lips - refreshed, restored, rejuvenated and ready for the next one.

This this is what life is like for the majority of the population. And then there's us. The introverts. People who don't need people. People for whom people, en masse, are the worst thing imaginable. A stranger is not "just a friend you haven't met yet". It's a sentence that makes no sense to us. A stranger is just someone who keeps us in a room, a situation we don't want to be in, probably with music and certainly away from our books and our own toilets.

I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again and keep saying it until everyone listens and understands: the clinical definition of an introvert is someone who is exhausted by social interaction (apart from a few very limited conditions). An extrovert is someone for whom it has exactly the opposite effect. So it follows that just as you wouldn't force the latter to decline invitations and stay, the former shouldn't be required to accept them and walk out.

In a just world, this is how things would be. Alas, we do not live in a just world. Self-protection measures and avoidance maneuvers must therefore be deployed if we introverts are to save our sanity and our limited abilities to socialize with the few people we actually want to socialize with.

The first and most valuable of these is to deny the existence of the holiday season. Yes, the world and its chosen methods of marking various socio-religious-pagan dates are designed for extroverts. But that doesn't mean you don't have any agency. Decline as many invitations as possible. Use fake excuses (keep a spreadsheet if needed) or God's honest truth, depending on who asks. If there are two things on the same night, say yes to both, then realize your "mistake" later and mourn them both. Only if the hosts don't know each other, of course. Use common sense.

But there are always events you can't avoid, whether they're related to family, friends or the office. Then you just need to stick to procedures to minimize core abrasion. None of them are great, because you've already had to shower and put on clothes and stuff to attend, but it's better than nothing, and soon you'll be home in joggers, slippers and clothes. warm embrace from Brooklyn Nine-Nine, I promise. Here's how to deal with it:

1. Throw yourself in. No, listen to me. You arrive there. You enter. You make a loud noise and deal with all the vaguely familiar faces you see ("Oh my God! It's been forever! How are you? / You look beautiful! / Oh, wow , look at us!", etc.), using each like a pinball machine uses a cushion - pushing towards the next one, never stopping, keeping the momentum going as you cross to the bar, grab a drink then go to – no one. You ride the wave of expectation you've created – no one who made such a joyful entrance and now has a drink in their hand could dream of leaving? – and slip away. Much pain , sure, but a lot of gain too.

2. Ask people questions. Gossip is the real bane of an introvert's life. Fortunately, you don't have to you don't have to commit to it much. Just ask someone a question about themselves, fix a look of interest on your face, and they'll happily talk until until you both die. But you can make your apologies before that. With a bit of luck. Be mindful, however, of your own state of mind behind the mask. The particular mix of boredom, rage, and contempt that parties induce is highly toxic, and you can easily die after just a few minutes if you're not watching things.

3. Create a Cushion of Solitude When you know something shitty is coming, get ready. Do not go out several days (or weeks, months, whatever your required mileage) in advance and do not plan, FFS, to do anything in the days (weeks, months, etc.) that follow. Keep a bunch of old positive lateral flow tests handy for emergency apologies.

4. Go to the bathroom As it sounds. Just go to the toilet. You can go to the toilet once per person. They don't know the last time you went - or if they do, it's probably some fetish stuff and so they're unlikely to call your behavior past...

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