Social Creatures

I've always found it odd that society has these unwritten rules about what's cool, or, perhaps a better word, aspirational.

"Yeah, I absolutely hate going out. I'd rather be home!"

How many times has a friend said that to you? Did you count? Good. The answer, of course, is infinity. People have said that phrase to you many times and, pandemic quaratined or not, they'll continue to say it day after day until the Earth stops spinning.

As a culture, we idealize isolation and idolize those who discuss their introverted tendencies. If you tell someone you stayed in all night and relaxed, you see physical approval on the face of your compatriot. Also, you feel good. You have a puffing in your chest and diaphragm as you say the words. You're impressive. You're even more impressive if that same person went out.

Try it next time. Tell someone in conversation that you stayed in and doesn't their voice drop just a little when they tell you they went out?They feel guilty, and maybe even less healthy than you.

Human beings are social creatures. If you read any kind of theoretical analysis on our species survival it always thematically relates to our complex communication and ability to create social networks, first small bands and then larger civilizations. It's all about how well we get along and the benefits of having a convival nature.

Now that I've exhausted my argument on why we shouldn't idolize loners, I'll say that I am one, or, at least, I've proudly used the example phrase above many times.

I live alone, which rightly suggests I like a wide berth of personal space, but I always assumed I was faking it. Deep down, based on my gregarious nature at work and in most personal settings, I must be an extrovert. Oddly enough, being empirically attractive I've found makes people assume you're extroverted. During those exchanges, I've always happily corrected the speaker, "Oh! No, I'm an introvert."

An easy litmus test to see if you're an extrovert or introvert, is to live in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world coupled, paradoxically, with some of the smallest living spaces in the world during a crisis that doesn't allow you to leave your home indefinitely.

When my office closed last week during the beginning of New York City's battle with the Coronavirus, I braced myself for my secret being exposed. Nonstop social media posts, FaceTime with friends, social media posts about the FaceTime with friends -- the symptoms of extroversion. Everyone would see it. I faced myself with the acceptance of a soldier who knows he's probably reached the end, as I packed up my belongings at my desk to begin working and living in complete isolation.

None of that happened. I wasn't a liar. I'm certainly confused why I feel more at ease having not seen a human for almost 7 days, but I'm not in the war of the extrovert battling for sanity. I might even, dare I say, feel more mentally grounded than I ever have.

I understand that extrovert/introvert isn't a dichomtoy. Maybe, I'm a hybrid. A cool hybrid.