Last week, I took the Myers-Briggs personality test.
(Because S’s sister mentioned it and I was curious. That’s why.)

I took the free online version, of course, so I took it several times. Just to be sure.

The first part of the result describes levels of introversion versus extroversion.
Everyone is a balance of both introversion and extroversion. We need to be alone, and we need to be with people. The personality test measures your introversion-extroversion needs based on a percentage.

I scored 90% introverted.
I would say, at that point, I could be considered very introverted.

I already knew that I was introverted. I spend the vast majority of my time alone – and I’m fine with that. I had lived in Tennessee almost a full 5 months before I noticed I hadn’t made any friends. Not one.
(Before you feel sorry for me, let me tell you that I’m okay with that. I’m not lonely in the least. S comes from a big family and we see them at least once or twice a week. I love them all and get along with them very well. Everyone is pretty close in age, so if S and I are looking to do something, we usually call a sibling.)

I am a writer. Obviously.
I spend a lot of time alone writing. I spend a lot of time alone just thinking. Processing information. Inventing things. Daydreaming.

S’s younger brother is pretty introverted too.
When he wanted to start going to a gym, he got online and researched socially acceptable behaviors when at a gym.
(and I didn’t find this odd, but, rather, extremely logical)

Being so introverted doesn’t bother me except in one area:

I am THE. WORST. EVER. when it comes to small talk.
I just can’t.
It’s painful.

I have the think and think, mentally prepare, and psych myself up to make small talk with strangers. I literally have no idea what to say.

S is fantastic is small talk – and so is his sister. The two of them can get anyone talking. Complete strangers. For 10 seconds. In an elevator.
I don’t get it.
I just watch them and marvel at their ease in conversing. Sometimes I make mental notes on things to talk about.

In fact.

Maybe I should get a tattoo of small talk topics listed on my forearm.
It could save me in the end.

When they start a conversation with strangers, then turn away and leave me with them, everything drops. We kind of just look at each other.
And I don’t know what to do!
Do I smile? If I don’t smile, I might seem unhappy. But if I smile and just look at them, isn’t that creepy? If I smile and don’t look at them, I will look like I’m remembering something or daydreaming.
What have we already talked about? S said something before he left….

Sheesh.