There are four bathrooms in my office building. Two are single occupant, unisex rooms and the other two are gendered multiple stall rooms. Nine times out of ten the single-occupant bathrooms smell like poop because (most) people in the building use the private rooms for their number twos. Despite that losing gamble, I prefer the single-occupant bathrooms for all of my business.
Not because I like the smell of poop.
I like that there is no risk of conversation. I do not have to have that awkward “how’s your day going” chitchat at the sink or, horror upon horrors, while actually using the facilities (seriously – why do people do that???).
Yes, I prefer poop smell over conversation. I am an introvert.
Interactions with other humans is exhausting for introverts. Even being in the mere presence of another person is physically and mentally taxing. There’s a level of discomfort like wearing a woolen sweater.
For an introvert, solitude is not a luxury. It’s a requirement. I need a certain amount of alone time to recharge. To think. To create. To flourish. To survive.
Small talk is draining and, in my opinion, pointless. “How’s it going?” is the most meaningless sentence in the human language. “How are you doing?” when it’s done as a greeting is a close second. I always reply with something overly upbeat that only those who actually know me know how utterly sarcastic the response is. “Fantastic!” “Never better!” “GREAT!” Because when these are done in greetings, passing in the hallway, they’re empty and a complete waste of breath. What’s wrong with just saying “Hi”? When was it decided we needed more than that?
If you don’t actually care about how I’m doing, don’t ask. Save us both the effort.
But Americans live in an extroverted world. Upbeat, happy, chitchat, smiling, conversations with everyone. I long for Germany where there are no pleasantries. When you have a conversation with someone in Germany, it must serve a purpose.
Now, don’t get me wrong – I have a blog so I obviously have a desire for communication. But I desire real conversation. Let’s talk about stuff! Politics, your family, books you’re reading, travels, something you learned from a podcast. If I ask how your weekend was, I want to hear what you did. If I ask “how are you doing?” I really want to know what’s keeping you up at night.
Introverts are not necessarily hermits. Our circles are small, but intense. I love my friends and look forward to being around them. And talking. It’s the deep connection all humans desire. I get that by having meaningful discussions one-on-one, not by discussing the weather with the person in front of me at the grocery store or what we’re warming up in the office microwave with a co-worker.
What did you want to be when you grew up?
How did you meet your spouse?
How’s your relationship with God?
Do you love your vocation? Why or why not?
How’s your relationship with your parents?
What was your best vacation?
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? Why aren’t you living there now?
I’ve never learned anything about anyone from the “how’s it going” conversation. Hell, some people in my office building I still don’t know their names no matter how many times we’re in the same hallway. No matter how many “how are you?” exchanges we have (we’re both great by the way).
I wish the world was more inclined toward introverts. Or at least would recognize, understand, and accommodate those of us in the world who are depleted by interactions. That an email or text is ok because phone calls are terrifying. That those of us who thrive in solitude are not rude or cold. That being around acquaintances is no more relaxing than being around total strangers – both require an extravagant array of mental gymnastics to prepare for and sustain the interactions and all of that effort leaves us totally spent.
The number of times I have been reprimanded, reviled, criticized, or lectured for not being “warm and friendly” enough is obnoxious. The social standard is outgoing and exuberant and anything less than that is too hostile and unapproachable and is therefore “bad.” This attacking attitude leads someone who is already uncomfortable around people to throw up even more defenses. It’s a vicious cycle and one that has no remedy since I chose to live in the world and not retreat within a cloister of nuns – a calling I sometimes regret not hearing.
But my introversion is my own little superpower. It gives me greater appreciation for my friendships. It’s what makes me a thinker and allows my creativity to express itself the way it does. It gives me a better understanding of other humans and greater compassion – introverts have a naturally higher emotional intelligence. It makes me good at my job that requires shrewd analysis.
There may be more, but someone just came into the room and, though they’re not talking to me yet, my mind quit working. I may need to go hide in the bathroom.