PREPARING
Rest up. The same way an athlete stretches her muscles, we must prepare our faculties for partygoing. Some may prefer a dark room with no external stimuli, or a sunny quiet field. Others, a secluded shower stall where nobody can hear you crying. Others, a drink or three. I used up all my drink tickets by the time I turned 22, so I’ve had to develop other skills. Find the psychic home of your introversion and spend some time rejuvenating there. Practice your facial expressions—I like to have at least two choices for “pleasant,” one for “listening,” one for “omg I’m about to laugh,” and as many as you can manage to mask antisocial emotional states like boredom or claustrophobia.
Set shields to full. Innocent-sounding small-talk is an unavoidable ingredient in many otherwise level-headed people’s ideal evening. An extrovert’s conversation feels not so much like an exchange as a barrage, seeking the weakness that will reveal who I secretly know I really am–nervous, not-very-well-traveled, and slightly unhinged. So be prepared–review any and all recent activities that may offer up enough anecdotal matter to satiate a new acquaintance. Stave off the inevitable drain of social stamina as long as possible with conversational amuse-bouches like “Oh wow, I’ve never been there, but I did recently finish a documentary about how insatiably violent and blood-thirsty Galapagos turtles really are.”
Plan to arrive on the early side. People will remember seeing you around, but by the time you are beginning to make soft beeping sounds (12 to 48 minutes), enough of a crowd will’ve assembled that your departure will not be disruptive or remarkable. As a bonus, extroverts tend to pride themselves on being fashionably late so you will avoid the worst of them. Learn from my mistakes and do not be so early that your host has not quite finished sweeping dirt onto the things they are hiding behind their bookcases. Bring a food you know how to eat so you don’t embarrass yourself by plunging one or both hands into the ironic aspic parfait they’ve made.
Suppress all your instincts. Try to repress the natural urge to flee or strike someone sharply across the face, and plaster on one of your pleasant expressions. This is a party. Normal people are here to have fun. You are here to give a facsimile performance of fun (on like a 100% day) or normalcy (when you’re in the 90th percentile) or not-that-weird (>70%) Like a surgeon or the guys who stoke the boilers under the Titanic, use the tools at your disposal, don’t just dive in there with your bare hands.
Know Your Audience. Since you have cultivated your material and avoided sharing any of it with friends online to preserve its freshness, now is the time to dispense it judiciously. Try to avoid thematic concentrations not suited to your audience (i.e. taxidermy) or leading with the same story in every new interaction (i.e. “Did I mention my brother is a taxidermist?”). It gives away your rehearsal process and may attract curious or mocking attention from other guests. And then you’ll just have to tell them things.
Be Moderate When Consuming Attention. Imagine somehow you have managed to successfully retell a humorous anecdote or dramatic event from your life. Do not allow the heady rush of social validation to lead you to grandstand or hold court. Under no circumstances dash out to your car to retrieve the Galapagos turtle your brother taxidermied for you last Christmas. Delicately hand off the crowd’s attention to a nearby acquaintance, requesting that they (the acquaintance) also participate in the social contract of sharing information for group bonding purposes. Choosing an extrovert will guarantee their acceptance of the floor. Congrats. You may have just passed for a civilian, depending on your level of flop-sweat saturation.
DEPARTING
Before one can successfully retreat from a social engagement that has caused one to slur speech, hear a faint ringing sound, or smell burning toast, one must often resort to a feat of conversational finesse to effect a segue from what one has done to what one is about to do. What I mean is, you need an exit strategy. Since we have ruled out leaping through a front window like the Kool-Aid Man as party-acceptable behavior, consider employing one of the following methods of social extraction.
The Mingling Imperative. After you and your party colleague have caught up on how you are, what you’ve been doing, where you spent the recently concluded seasonal vacation period, and you have lied about your plans for the next one, you smile and say with wistfulness, “Well, I guess I’d better keep circulating.” This opens the door for your conversational companion to express how splendid the last five minutes have been, how much they look forward to the next installment, and if they’re feeling particularly playful, a teasing admonition not to cause trouble. Don’t tense up—this is a generic comment. What happens in the medicine cabinet, stays in the medicine cabinet.
The Party Guest Redirect. If you have done the preparatory work to know whom in the present company is single, you are in a prime position to make use of this tactic. Take your companion by the elbow, attract the attention of the nearest single person of the appropriate sexual orientation, and introduce them. Personal details may be helpful, though you may be able to get away with some basic adjectives as a conversation starter. Once they have begun talking to one another, you can retreat to the background, but beware of other party guests who may enlist you in this very maneuver. Be suspicious of people who attempt to lure you into a three-way conversation with something like “have you met so-and-so? She’s…left-handed”
The Relocation Gambit. Rarely, but once in a great while, you may actually encounter another person whom you wish to know better before you begin dodging their calls and avoiding eye contact because it’s all too intense. Try to evaluate whether they are having a good time or are equally miserable before you lead with “care to go someplace that’s not here?” Also figure out whether they’re the host’s roommate because almost nothing makes someone less likely to leave than actually living in the place you’re trying to escape.
The “Destiny Calls” approach. Commonly signaled with “Oh no, something suddenly came up,” this is a firm statement of impending departure you deliver to your host with maximum sincerity. Engage in some status-boosting backdoor bragging that will not only raise you in your host’s estimation but elevate the status of the party itself, since the only thing that could induce you to leave a party like this would be that darned mayoral commission on the regulation of taxidermy societies in urban environs. Resist the temptation to break the news to your host that you may have accidentally desecrated some decorative feature of their home or to offer a reciprocal invitation that they should come visit you next time.
The Inarticulate Emergency: Walk quickly up to your host and, underneath the volume of the party’s celebratory hum, explain urgently that you’ve been called away unexpectedly to deal with something mumble-muttered and unintelligible. If they press you to speak more clearly, burst out with “no time!” and hurry away.
After you deploy this one, the conversation in your wake should look something like this:
Guest A: “Where did she say she was going?”
Guest B: “To deal with a flashmob cashflow issue?’
Guest C: “I thought she said ‘hashtag hairbow”
Guest A: “All I know is it sounded pretty drastic.”
Guest C: “How sad – I heard she was demonstrating a very natural ability to participate in conversational exchanges!”
I forgot to mention you should plant a fellow introvert (Guest C) in the throng to cover you before fleeing. Do not forget to phone in a fake emergency for Guest C.
Best of luck to you.
Tags: awesome rad parties, humor, miranda pennington, parties
“Congrats. You may have just passed for a civilian, depending on your level of flop-sweat saturation.” – Accurate.
“Rarely, but once in a great while, you may actually encounter another person whom you wish to know better before you begin dodging their calls and avoiding eye contact because it’s all too intense.”
I may identify a little too much with this sentence. 🙁
“Used up all my drink tickets” – I’m totally stealing that. Thanks!
My departing tactic: “Oh, look, I should refill my drink. Do you need anything?” This gives the other person an excuse to come with me or to defer and talk to someone else. Sometimes I worry this is too transparent.
Also, I actually have started trying to come up with a list of things to talk about prior to going to a party or happy hour. (I’ve started oging to professional happy hours for networking and the like.) I feel a little pathetic for doing this, but on the other hand, I feel more prepared.
Oh god, yes. How do people just…talk? Like, I can expound indefinitely on TOPICS, but then I go to social events and people aren’t really talking about things, they’re just talking, and it’s all lovely and amusing and charming like a Victorian novel but I can’t enjoy myself because I’m paralyzed with panic the entire time.
I suspect the people most comfortable with small talk simply aren’t listening to anyone else. Lucky bastards.
— Miranda 🙂
This seriously just blew my mind
Mr. Fringehead does this thing where he can, like, think of questions to ask people. And then he can relate to the responses, but not in a way that makes it all about him. It’s like some sort of wizardry that I can only hope is communicable.
Relating to the responses while make it not all yourself is very tricky! As is asking questions without making it seem like an interrogation.
Leading with “oh that’s interesting! I’ve never done that” is maybe the one legit non-hyperbole tip I’ve got.
And if you’re already embracing the “slightly too intense” thing, plucking at their sleeve and saying “I must know more.” is acceptable and flattering. If you add an exclamation point, you sound less intense, somehow.
I need to print this out on to 3×5 cards for easy reference.
I never say goodbye to anyone. Just slip out when I don’t think anyone can see me.
Same. If anyone notices that you’re gone without saying goodbye, they just assume that you somehow missed them in your goodbyes, like maybe they were in the bathroom or whatever.
An Irish goodbye!
Hysterical, true, and so necessary for us introverts. Thank you for the best laugh I’ve had in a long time!
This is why I prefer to go to parties than host them – I am often too lazy to go out, but at least then I can go home!
I prefer to host parties, because I already know everyone and I have plenty of excuses to exit conversation when things get weird.
This describes all of my party-going experiences forever and is perfect.
move to another country with a different accent, you’ll always have something to talk about 😉
I have tried that! I did have a lot more novelty smalltalk in India, but sticking out like a very pale sore thumb actually attracts /more/ attention. Maybe if I’d gone to Ireland….
So true. But then you become the centre of attraction, and have to answer stupid questions from people about your country.
Yeah being asked for the 100th time if you eat bread or rice can get taxing.
So gratified by all the Toasties affirmation. I hope someday we can all be in one big room with no pressure to talk to one another. Let’s all go see a movie!
Seeing a movie is nice, but there’s no talking or interacting at all. I prefer to be doing something, that way you can talk or you can just participate in some activity with other people without talking. Or you can talk about the activity, which is something you already have in common because you’re both doing it.
The best party I ever went to with a shit-ton of people I didn’t know was Dave and Buster’s. You could play games with people or you could play alone. You can talk about how that game works, or remark about how many tickets they have, or how many tickets they spent to get that thing. You could get a drink or food with people or alone, and if it’s the latter, someone from your group might sit with you and you can have a nice one-on-one with an excuse to get up after you’re done eating/drinking if you need it.
I waffled over arcades vs movie for like three solid minutes! I also like baseball games for introvert reasons but only with people who a) want to watch the game and b) are comfortable with silence between umpire-upbraidings.
That’s a good idea, because you can either talk or not talk and it’s all okay! And if you need a break from someone who talks too much, you can get up and wander around for awhile and easily blame your long absence on long lines at the concession/bathroom.
“We could not talk or talk forever and still find things to not talk about.”
“We both like soup….”
Baseball game, that’s a good one! I also like board games, card games, mah jongg, etc. — you could chat while playing, but you could also just be silent except for rule clarifications and (depending on your personality) game-related shit-talking.
This may vary depending on family board-game related trauma. My mother is a sweet, kind and loving women until you sit her down in front of a Monopoly board with a table of adults. I used to think my father hated board games, but no, only in the hands of the power-mad.
Is it possible that we are sisters? That our mother has two families?
I often split the difference by hosting a viewing party for some movie we’ve all seen one jillion times. This month: The Shining. Obviously I’ll be serving a specialty cocktail, the REDRUM: blood orange soda with rum and lime zest.
It’s a good compromise for people who want to socialize but have trouble with small-talk, because a subject is provided right there on the screen, and long stretches of no-talk feel perfectly natural.
I love everything about this.
Also, I’ve never seen The Shining.
Then you can come over on Casablanca night instead. Or The Princess Bride.
OH MY GOODNESS OR MULHOLLAND DR. NIGHT, I BET SOME TOASTIES WOULD WATCH MULHOLLAND DR. WITH ME ONE THOUSAND TIMES IN A ROW WHY WON’T ANYONE WATCH MULHOLLAND DR. WITH ME EVEN ONCE OR PREFERABLY SEVERAL TIMES AND THEN TALK LONG INTO THE NIGHT WHY OH WHY?
Ahem. Or maybe Citizen Kane night.
I perpetually confuse Gosford Park with Mulholland Drive. I do not know why this is except that Mulholland Drive sounds like such a better name for Gosford Park. Anyway, I’ll watch either. Or Citizen Kane.
This is also why Rifftrax are amazing.
The Princess Bride. I am so there. Ah, but you probably live somewhere far away like Oregon or something.
My college friends and I used to watch movies together in large groups, but we’ve all gone our separate ways and/or done terrible things to each other and now I no longer have a big group of people to watch movies with. I miss it!
I live in Maine, wanna come over? I am only 20% kidding. (Please don’t be an internet murderer who will internet-murder me.)
I live in New Jersey, which is still too far away to internet-murder someone.
Seriously though, it’s a shame because you seem like a cool person that I could totally be real hang-out-in-person friends with. 🙂
If I live to see it, teleportation is going to improve my social life soooooo much.
TRUTH. Plus, you won’t have to have a designated driver!
Also, it will be so easy to dispose of all the internet-murder corpses! Just put ’em in the teleportation chamber and hit “send”!
SSSSHHHHH! The internet-murder police might be listening!
I WAS ONLY KIDDING, INTERNET-MURDER INSPECTORS.
Perhaps I should curb the internet-murder quips in the thread where I am also jabbering out a white-hot stream of The Shining obsession.
What they don’t know is that “murder” is just our code word for the aforementioned cocktail. We don’t even ask for it by name. We just make the finger motion.
I know this seems unlikely, but the scariest thing about The Shining is “TUESDAY”. Just watch. And wait. Then come back here and whimper.
TUESDAY is pretty scary. But in my apartment, the scariest thing about The Shining is how often I watch it and how insatiably I want to talk about it and how often I have people over to watch and talk about it but then have to restrain myself from lecturing incessantly about the use of unnaturally constructed space in The Overlook, except that one time my wonderful niece came over SPECIFICALLY to have me start-and-stop the movie and point out the moments where spatial continuity is violated, may blessings be heaped upon her forever.
It’s pretty scary, is all.
You saw that documentary didn’t you? Produced it? No? 😛
When I first saw The Shining it was extra scary because of how much I loved Shelley Duvall’s fairy tale theater series. I side-eyed Jack Nicholson for a looooong time.
I haven’t seen it yet! Amusingly/infuriatingly, my husband profiled an upcoming showing & discussion at a local gallery and “forgot”* to mention it to me, so I missed it. A friend told me that it was a bit disappointing, especially after participating in a few fevered The Shining rantings at my place with like-minded wackos.
*My sardonic “forgot” translates to: either he actually forgot (quite possible) or he assumed I would notice it in the weekly column (extremely possible) or he told me several times and I managed to forget all on my own (extra-extremely possible).
We have two party rules that get included in every open-house invitation: no knocking when you arrive, no apologizing when you leave.
The unspoken corollary to Rule 2: no giving another guest a hard time for leaving. We immediately quash any “Already?” or “You just got here!” with a quick and hearty “Thanks for coming!” or “It was so good to see you!” It’s quite rude — and discouraging! — to end someone’s evening with guilt instead of pleasure, and I don’t allow it in my home.
Man, you sound like a person whose parties I would like to attend.
And we would love to have you! The Fella and I have wildly successful parties despite living in a dollhouse-sized apartment with a kitchen that clearly used to be a small closet. The small size does mean I’m always within earshot of the door, so I can swoop in and knock off any of that unpleasant “ALREADY?” nonsense.
Well, if we ever end up literally across the country from where we live, I will totally show up at your house without knocking and not leave until I want to, regardless of social cues.
(…am I doing it right?)
YES. I was just bragging to a friend that I have also learned how to politely but firmly kick people out at the end of the party.
At a party this winter, I did it twice. Our open house began at noon; at 3:30 a.m.*, a cluster of four of our dearest friends remained on the sofa, cozily chatting. I told them “It’s been so great having you! I have got to get to bed or I’m going to fall over.”
They all stood up, made it ~10 steps to the front room, then stopped there, still talking to each other. I gave them about three minutes, then said it again. They laughed hard, left quickly, and came to the next party, so I thiiiiink they still love me.
*You read that right: 15.5 hours later.
i love this! wonderful!
You, lady, are a GEM.
Once we thought it up, it suddenly seemed like the bare minimum of polite hosting, y’know? I wouldn’t stand still for one guest bullying another guest over, say, abstaining from another drink or enjoying a second piece of cake, and I absolutely wouldn’t let someone bully a fellow guest into leaving early. This is just an extension of that logic.
My BIGGEST party pet peeve (at least the biggest one I can think of right this second) is people pushing people to have a/nother drink. No means no, people. It doesn’t matter why, and it’s not a judgment on you (or if it is, they’re a jerk so don’t worry about it), and it’s not your business anyway.
Similarly: WHY DO YOU CARE IF I AM EATING CAKE, WEIRDO? I will eat my cake, you eat yours. My eating/not-eating cake is not a judgment on your not-eating/eating cake.
I used to believe that I was an introvert because I used to be quite shy, and I like to be by myself and read. But the more time I spend on the internet and the older I get, I realize I have been an extrovert all along.
I used to think Mr. Fringehead was an extrovert because of the above-mentioned conversational wizardry and also because he has a million friends, but I’ve realized he’s totally an introvert – if people didn’t invite him out, he’d happily spend all his time just hanging out at home. And he actually gets totally nervous in situations where he doesn’t know people, but it doesn’t show (because, again, wizard).
Meanwhile, I find myself shifting from 100% introvert to, like, 82%, which is a weird feeling.
I was reading something a while back about how introverts do really well in interactions where stuff like “active listening” is important, like counseling or advising, because they process the content of conversations really well on the spot, while extroverts are better at riding the surface of the conversation and keeping it going. Which is partly why introverts find that kind of interaction emotionally exhausting, because they’re really invested in the process.
And since the internet is a giant, constant group therapy session, it makes sense that introverts would feel comfortable there. You’ve got time to think about the conversation and respond to the deeper content, but you can also bug out at any time without provoking any weird responses.
Understanding the engagement component of how introverts interact also made me suddenly understand how I will always, always prefer my couch and a book to any other prospect, yet I really love hosting parties and really love my job where I have to evaluate what people are telling me about their current situation and then figure out ways to address, often, what they’re not saying about it.
I do, however, have set patter for some of my routine job/schmoozing interactions, which helps immensely in keeping me from feeling like I’m carrying my brain around on a platter and letting people poke at it.
P.S. INTJ 4 LYFE.
As an extreme extrovert constantly surrounded by extroverts and/or really gracious introverts, this is kind of eye opening? Sorry if that’s condescending, but I really should be cognizant of others’ comfort levels in social situations, and I’m usually not! Because I’m too busy screaming, arguing etc. So THANKS MIRANDA I’LL BUY YOU A DRINK AT A SUPER LOUD CROWDED BAR WOOOOO jk
SOUNDS GREAT WHOOPS I HAVE TO GO THE THING IS ON FIRE UNDERWATER AND STUFF
(I’m always extremely happy to see my extrovert friends, vent any pent-up enthusiasm I’ve been storing, and then stuff my earbuds in and slink away 🙂
At parties, I frequently end up sitting in the corner with the pets. Everyone throwing a party should have at least one pet (not a python please).
And yet I am one of those introverts who is good at pretending to be an extrovert, at least around people I know. Give me strangers and I am an awkward robot. That is why I like to throw parties instead of attend them.
I frequently self-relegate to the kids table, also. Maria Von Trapp for a Day, they call me*
*they don’t call me. How I wish they would.
This is how I survived the first three years of attending Mr. Howlet’s family gatherings, where all his aunts are screaming happily at each other across the kitchen, usually in Spanglish. I quietly retreated to hang out with the little cousins and eventually acclimated to the baseline volume level.
Or babies! Babies (other peoples’ more so) are great party props, because as soon as you run out of things to say, the baby will do something cute or be sleeping cutely or will cry and then you can make appropriate noises and focus on the baby for a while, and then you seem really friendly but you don’t have to make words for adults to understand.
I’ll just leave this here. http://i.imgur.com/DyZsxsL.jpg
I want to share this, but then my friends will know my secrets.
YES. I was just bragging to a friend that I have also learned how to politely but firmly kick people out at the end of the party.
At a party this winter, I did it twice. Our open house began at noon; at 3:30 a.m.*, a cluster of four of our dearest friends remained on the sofa, cozily chatting. I told them "It's been so great having you! I have got to get to bed or I'm going to fall over."
They all stood up, made it ~10 steps to the front room, then stopped there, still talking to each other. I gave them about three minutes, then said it again. They laughed hard, left quickly, and came to the next party, so I thiiiiink they still love me.
*You read that right: 15.5 hours later.
Similarly: WHY DO YOU CARE IF I AM EATING CAKE, WEIRDO? I will eat my cake, you eat yours. My eating/not-eating cake is not a judgment on your not-eating/eating cake.
I was reading something a while back about how introverts do really well in interactions where stuff like "active listening" is important, like counseling or advising, because they process the content of conversations really well on the spot, while extroverts are better at riding the surface of the conversation and keeping it going. Which is partly why introverts find that kind of interaction emotionally exhausting, because they're really invested in the process.
And since the internet is a giant, constant group therapy session, it makes sense that introverts would feel comfortable there. You've got time to think about the conversation and respond to the deeper content, but you can also bug out at any time without provoking any weird responses.
Understanding the engagement component of how introverts interact also made me suddenly understand how I will always, always prefer my couch and a book to any other prospect, yet I really love hosting parties and really love my job where I have to evaluate what people are telling me about their current situation and then figure out ways to address, often, what they're not saying about it.
I do, however, have set patter for some of my routine job/schmoozing interactions, which helps immensely in keeping me from feeling like I'm carrying my brain around on a platter and letting people poke at it.
P.S. INTJ 4 LYFE.
This is how I survived the first three years of attending Mr. Howlet's family gatherings, where all his aunts are screaming happily at each other across the kitchen, usually in Spanglish. I quietly retreated to hang out with the little cousins and eventually acclimated to the baseline volume level.
I love this! Hilarious and on point.
As a very much extrovert, I feel like this is not so eye opening. maybe it's just the internet's time of the month or whatever, but lately I feel besieged by articles and essays about how hard the introvert's life is, how much introverts have to adjust to behave normally, how to act around the skittish introvert so as not to spook him/her. I have a number of introverted friends, so I'm not unsympathetic, but at a certain point, I feel like being an introvert is no excuse for not participating, and people just have to suck it up sometimes.
Because you know what? Being an extrovert is no picnic. I like my alone time, but when I go too long without talking to someone, I get lonely and depressed. I'll get invited to something, say, a party, and even though I know that once I get there I'll be energetic and feel better, I'm too depressed to go. Introverts have to go home and be alone to recharge, but everybody goes home eventually — if you have to go out in the world to feel better, it's considerably more effort. Also, doing so requires the cooperation of other people who are willing to spend their time with you; introverts just need to be left alone. Extroverts get such a bad rap: we're called needy, superficial, insecure narcissists who never really listen (even other comments on this post imply this), while introverts are all deep and meaningful. There are obviously many introverts who are, but I don't think I'm less meaningful for enjoying human interaction.
Sorry to rant, it's just been weighing on me recently. I've been going through a bit of a rough time lately, and it sucks that whenever I want to reach out to someone for support, I feel like everybody thinks I'm some sort of emotional vampire.