You may have noticed we haven’t been getting along lately. Okay, we’ve never gotten along.
It’s not that I haven’t tried. I appreciate that you introduced me to your 42 million “closest” friends. But I’ve come to realize I can only handle so many companions named Jennifer.
I’ve tried to reach out and connect with you. I came to your parties with the full intention of making eye contact and reacting enthusiastically to inconsequential small talk. But the second I walked through the door and heard the sounds of friendly social interaction, a message flashed in my brain saying “Ain’t gonna happen.”
For most of my life I thought being one of the gang would make me happy. The fact that I attended 38 consecutive kareoke nights with a group of acquaintances shows I made an effort. The breakthrough moment for me came on the night I sang “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” for the 38th consecutive time.
I realized then it was never meant to be. I would never take charge in meetings and ignore the people who may have something important to say. I would never get jazzed when I heard someone say they’re “pumped.” I would never ask my mailman about his trip to Disneyworld because I need to talk to somebody.
My beloved Extroverted World, my biggest hope is that we can remain friends. Please don’t take it personally when I tell you I’d rather shave my left leg with a rusty razor than come to your Cinco de Mayo party. Don’t be offended if I’m hiding in the back row of your “It’s Time to Shine” assertiveness seminar.
There will always be a special place in my heart for you – a quiet place located a safe distance away.
With deep affection (although it may not show),