Natural extroverts
Came to a realization yesterday, about extroverts (you know, the normal people, as any fellow introvert can tell you).
Her Girliness has been speaking less and less to me lately -- in fact, yesterday, I noticed that I couldn't remember the last time she talked to me. Huh.
I wonder what she thinks I did to her; since, by her behavior towards me, she must think I did something. I feel a weird floaty sensation when I think about not knowing why -- my emotional radar is very sensitive, but I can't imagine (yet) what her motivation is for giving me the silent treatment.
Oh, well, mysteries give some spice to the office work-day, right?
So yesterday afternoon, I'm walking down the long hall to the restroom, look up, and see that she's just come around the corner at the opposite end! D'oh -- I flash to a Dilbert cartoon where the guy is trying to time his smile right, as he passes a coworker in a long hallway.
We close half the distance, and I go to say hello, and it comes out in a friendly sing-song "Hello there!"
She doesn't react at all.
We close the remaining distance, as a chill of received-rudeness washes over me, and I look down at the linoleum tile instead of at her; still smiling, though.
I listen to her strappy-sandaled footsteps continuing down the hallway, until I round the corner.
Damn, I realize, I totally should have looked her in the face as we passed! That would have been awesome!
Missed my opportunity to deflect the rudeness by smiling it right back at her, there.
-----
An hour later, I was mulling over the scene, and thinking about how it puzzled me, because Her Girliness is an extrovert -- she's naturally outgoing, so it should be easy for her to be nice to me even if she doesn't like me (for whatever un-communicated reason), right? She ought to be able to be sunny even if she's not feeling it. It should be effortless for her, shouldn't it? And yet, she seems unable to conceal the fact that she's really uncomfortable around me, and doesn't want to talk to me or make eye contact with me.
It should be effortless.
Hmmm. Effortless because it's easy; because it's always been easy for her, since it's natural... second-nature... she doesn't have to put in the effort I do.... it's a learned skill for me, fer crissakes!...
Ooooh. Hang on a sec. It's natural for her, but it's a skill for me. She coasts along on natural talent; I've worked like hell on my social skills.
I have the social skills. I have them.....she doesn't!
She has. no. actual. social. skills.
Crap! When she's really uncomfortable, she can't hide it!
And here I've just known my whole life that naturally extroverted people had it so easy, and us introverts were doing all the work to fit in... and here's a situation where the extrovert doesn't have the skills to navigate, because she's just been getting by on innate talent, not building skills!
I have what skills there are.
I am going to win this one.
Color me shocked.
Her Girliness has been speaking less and less to me lately -- in fact, yesterday, I noticed that I couldn't remember the last time she talked to me. Huh.
I wonder what she thinks I did to her; since, by her behavior towards me, she must think I did something. I feel a weird floaty sensation when I think about not knowing why -- my emotional radar is very sensitive, but I can't imagine (yet) what her motivation is for giving me the silent treatment.
Oh, well, mysteries give some spice to the office work-day, right?
So yesterday afternoon, I'm walking down the long hall to the restroom, look up, and see that she's just come around the corner at the opposite end! D'oh -- I flash to a Dilbert cartoon where the guy is trying to time his smile right, as he passes a coworker in a long hallway.
We close half the distance, and I go to say hello, and it comes out in a friendly sing-song "Hello there!"
She doesn't react at all.
We close the remaining distance, as a chill of received-rudeness washes over me, and I look down at the linoleum tile instead of at her; still smiling, though.
I listen to her strappy-sandaled footsteps continuing down the hallway, until I round the corner.
Damn, I realize, I totally should have looked her in the face as we passed! That would have been awesome!
Missed my opportunity to deflect the rudeness by smiling it right back at her, there.
-----
An hour later, I was mulling over the scene, and thinking about how it puzzled me, because Her Girliness is an extrovert -- she's naturally outgoing, so it should be easy for her to be nice to me even if she doesn't like me (for whatever un-communicated reason), right? She ought to be able to be sunny even if she's not feeling it. It should be effortless for her, shouldn't it? And yet, she seems unable to conceal the fact that she's really uncomfortable around me, and doesn't want to talk to me or make eye contact with me.
It should be effortless.
Hmmm. Effortless because it's easy; because it's always been easy for her, since it's natural... second-nature... she doesn't have to put in the effort I do.... it's a learned skill for me, fer crissakes!...
Ooooh. Hang on a sec. It's natural for her, but it's a skill for me. She coasts along on natural talent; I've worked like hell on my social skills.
I have the social skills. I have them.....she doesn't!
She has. no. actual. social. skills.
Crap! When she's really uncomfortable, she can't hide it!
And here I've just known my whole life that naturally extroverted people had it so easy, and us introverts were doing all the work to fit in... and here's a situation where the extrovert doesn't have the skills to navigate, because she's just been getting by on innate talent, not building skills!
I have what skills there are.
I am going to win this one.
Color me shocked.
Labels: theories
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