A neighbor, who I see several times a week while walking the dogs, invited me to his annual chili cook-off party last week.
He invited me last year too. At the time, I said maybe I’d come if I could make it. (I didn’t go last year).
This time, I was more upfront. I thanked him for thinking of me and for the invitation but said I wouldn’t be coming because “I’m a pretty shy guy.”
I am flattered to be invited. I do appreciate the gesture of friendship. He and his wife are the type of people I respect and admire.
I imagine the other partygoers would be of similar ilk. Good people tend to attract good people.
The next day I was thinking about this.
Here was the conversation I had in my head:
“Why don’t I want to attend? After all, it would be good for me to make some friends. And, it’s not like I am painfully shy. I’m not. I’m a quiet introvert, but I handle myself quite appropriately in social situations. I’m a good listener. I can carry on a good conversation. I like people. I’m curious to hear their stores.
It’s not like I’m some kind of antisocial weirdo. I don’t want to go because:
- Once the sun goes down I’m ready to relax, unwind and get ready for bed.
- I follow a strict carnivore diet that works for me but is quite extreme. I used to love chili. I’m sure I’d enjoy eating it today except I’d overeat it and pay the price for days of digestion problems, fatigue, headaches etc.
- Since I don’t drink I can’t enjoy the social lubricant of booze to relax.
- I imagine there will be other couples around my age at the party. It is hard to even think about socializing with couples without desperately messing my wife. We made so many memories together at family gatherings, parties, holidays, weddings and events.
- I’d rather be home, reading a book on the sofa and snuggled up with my dogs.
- Even though I “need” or “should want” friends, I have no interest in putting in the effort.
- I hate the thought of coming home late, after my normal bedtime, being totally wound-up and having a bad night’s sleep. I’m certain I’d be wound up because that’s what happens to me after social engagements.“
Then after having this conversation with myself I realized:
I AM AN ANTISOCIAL WEIRDO!
I had to laugh because it is 100% accurate. Just look at my list. Look at the way I live. Consider the choices I’ve made and the actions I’ve taken since my wife died regarding dating, travel, friendship, and work.
I’m not shy. Nor depressed, agoraphobic, misanthropic nor anxious.
I’m just weird. And content being alone.
I am an antisocial weirdo.
The next time I get an invitation, that will likely be part of my response.