MY YEAR AS AN EXTROVERT

What would happen if a shy introvert lived like a gregarious extrovert for one year? If she knowingly and willingly put herself in perilous social situations that she’d normally avoid at all costs? Journalist Jessica Pan was determined to find out.

- Jessica Pan

SOME people are great at talking to strangers, building new relationships and making friends at parties. I’m really good at other things, like loitering palely in dark doorways. Disappearing into sofa corners. Leaving early.

Nearly a third of people (depending on which study you consult) identifies as introvert, so it’s likely this could describe you, too. If we’d, say, met at a party neither of us had flaked on, we could bond over this while hiding in the kitchen near the cheeseboard.

There are a lot of heated debates about what defines an introvert or an extrovert. The main accepted definition is that introverts get their energy from being alone, whereas extroverts get their energy from being around other people.

But psychologists often discuss two other related parameters: shy versus outgoing. I always assumed all introverts were shy, but apparently some introverts can be ultra-confident in groups, or capable of smoothly delivering presentations.

What makes them introverts is they just can’t take stimulation and large crowds for extended periods of time.

But I’m shy: I’m afraid of making contact with strangers, being the center of attention, but I also need time to recharge after being around a lot of people and loathe large crowds. I am, as one article defined it, a “socially awkward introvert” – a shy introvert or shintrovert, as I shall henceforth refer to myself.

I once overheard my former colleague Willow talking about her trip to New York. Willow had stopped to pet a woman’s dog in Prospect Park: she ended up spending the day with the woman, going to a jazz club with her until 4am and later landing her dream job through one of her new friend’s connections.