March 27, 2013
I’ve always identified with an extrovert’s personality.
Controlled chos? I love it.
Throwing a party? As long as there’s cake, I’ll be there.
Lonely days where I don’t talk to anyone all day? I go nuts. NUTS I TELL YOU.
That’s why my kids are my BFFs. Unhealthy, I know.
There have also been several occasions where someone is describing a cool place or their future plans of vacation, I tend to say, “Ohh, take me, I want to go too!” Which always makes for some uncomfortable eye contact. It’s not that I really want to invite myself on your honeymoon, it’s just that I’ve never been to St. Croix or wherever you’re going, and it sounds so good, and I like you, and in my mind it would be fun to have a group vay-kay, no?
Growing up, my house was the one where all our friends and family ended up. It was like, par-tay over heerre! We had a pool and giant 5-pound bags of chips, so all the time, and especially in the summer there was a constant flow of visitors.
I grew up eating heaps of onion dip out of a crystal serving dish and waiting in line to use my own bathroom.
But then I married an introvert.
And with that, the onion dip left the building.
I didn’t think it would effect me too much.
I kind of liked the idea of some peace and quiet. I was looking forward to a more exclusive life. A respite.
But now, eight years later, the respite has evolved into less of a break, and more of our daily life.
And it dawned on me that I have become an introvert. Unbenownst to me.
We don’t let many people through our threshold.
We do our own activities on the weekend, and never extend the invitation to any one else.
We don’t belong to a life group and even going to church has become a major chore.
But to be honest, I don’t like it.
It drives me crazy. I love people. I love to talk and make plans and have company and laughter.
Of course we have friends, and have people over, but being married to an introvert, plus being an accidental introvert myself, we have become more selective about who we are friends with.
People have to pass a veritable friend gauntlet, if you will.
It’s a rigorous six week period where we judge you based on your clothes, your taste in music, your food choices, your political views, your children’s’ behavior, your leisure time activities, and the interior of your vehicle.
But once you pass, you’re in. FOREVER.
Because once Pat and I deem you our friend, we hold on tight, and never ever let you go.
It’s like getting a hug from a grizzly bear. And who doesn’t want to be mauled, I mean hugged by a furry, albeit vicious animal?
Come to my house, I’ll make Paella! I’ve never made it before, but it sounds like it’s something that can feed a crowd.
I might even serve onion dip out of a crystal bowl.
And let’s start this 6 week friend period!