I'm Not Really An Introvert

This week, I spoke to someone. On the phone. Someone not related to me. Someone not married to me, on his weekly trip to the supermarket, using one of my scarves as a mask.

Every year, without fail, people buy me scarves. I don’t wear them. They collect, and possibly multiply in my closet. But I don’t wear them.

These days, my husband wears one (with penguins on it) to go to the supermarket. He calls me to tell me that yes, everyone is six feet apart, wearing some sort of facial covering thing, and yes, he did remember the brownie mix and booze.

We haven’t had one of those chats this week. But I spoke to someone else. On the phone.

I might have got all happy-shouty out of sorts about it. HI. HOW ARE YOU?

Because I’ve learned something about myself in this whole lockdown thing. I’m not actually an introvert or a wallflower.

OK, so. I was never really an introvert. More an ambivert. Or an extroverted introvert. Comfortable and loud within small groups of people. My people. Who I miss every day, very much.

And so, when someone new-to-me phones me it’s like HI. ARE YOU MY PEOPLE?

We shall see.

Last week, while checking in with my people online, as we do these days, three conversations went like this:

Them: How are things?

Me: The three of us have reached peak asshole, but we’re good.

And it’s true.

Wandering around, looking for snacks, leaving dishes everywhere like this is a frat house. (I’ve never lived in a frat house, but y’know.) Me randomly shouting ‘Read a book!’ Neil farting gratuitously, and Isla going ‘I love you, but you’re annoying me now.’

And that’s the thing. You’re annoying, but I love you.

I’m annoying, but I’m OK after a time out.

You’re annoying, but it’s kinda nice. This forced togetherness.

I’m glad I’m stuck with you. But please only burst into song when it makes sense to do so. And I would also choose for us to be together with these people, and these people, and the only other person I’d pick up the phone to talk to. Like this conversation over here.

So my voice still gets high and squeaky when I talk to people not in this house, when I talk to people who aren’t my parents on our daily checking in calls, and when talking to people doesn’t require typing and three dots. But our actual voices.

HI, HOW ARE YOU? ARE YOU MY PEOPLE?

I’m grateful though it seems the world is closed, connections are not. We can still talk, or type. Our voices are still there, however we use them. We can still check in with our people, or find new ones. We can still learn new things about ourselves and others and use that new stuff we’ve learned when this is over. Or now.

For instance, I might decide I actually like talking on the phone. Or wearing scarves.

We shall see.

If you’re reading this: HI. HOW ARE YOU? Are you my people? You probably are, I’m just checking.

So, yes. I’m a people person. Still not a scarf person, though.

Are you a people person? Even if you didn’t know you were before?

Have you made any new friends these days?

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