Happily Unsociable

I have recently uncovered the key to living with social ineptitude that could have saved me countless painful evenings in the company of near-strangers: Just. Say. No. It’s so simple yet so effective; I’m almost embarrassed to admit I haven’t tried it earlier. I stumbled upon this amazing technique when I decided I'd had enough of trying to force myself into being something I’m not (social, entertaining, interesting etc.) so I just wasn't going to bother anymore. It took some practice, and a few false starts, but I'm now quite adept at it. One of the key elements, I’ve discovered, is to offer no excuse. Saying “I’m busy” or “I have something else on” just invites polite questions about the obviously fabulous social event that’s keeping you from this one. A smile and a mildly disappointed look while saying “I’m sorry, I can’t make it” is all that’s required. And the best part is that nine times out of ten no one asks why. Perhaps they don’t ask because they don’t really care if I’m there or not, which is a win-win in my book. Most often I think they don’t ask because it’s assumed the only reason you’d turn down any social invitation is because you had something else to do, which is actually kind of true. They just don’t need to know that the something else is staying home with a good book rather than subjecting myself (and others) to the horror of my attempted socialising. On the very rare occasions that they do ask I’ve taken the boldly honest approach of admitting that I'm just not keen on parties, which most people seem to accept as a valid excuse, at least to my face.

Now I’m kicking myself for all those years of going along to things when I really didn't want to, or thinking up excuses and then feeling guilty about them. Don’t get me wrong, I do very much enjoy going out and spending time with my friends and family, and I even enjoy meeting new people, I just don't enjoy the big party or group dinner with people I don’t know – or worse, with people I do know, but don’t have anything much in common with. It’s not personal, I’m sure they’re all very lovely and interesting people, but I’ve never been capable of small talk and getting-to-know-you conversation, and I just can’t be arsed feeling guilty about it anymore. And while I appreciate the kindness and attempted inclusiveness, most of the time I really am happy to be “left out.” I do think a lot of it comes down to age; it’s so much easier being a dull homebody in my 40s than it ever was in my 20s. It’s a myth that all young people like going out, partying, getting drunk etc. I never did. Of course I do wish I could look back fondly on a wild and crazy youth, but I've never been inclined to do anything particularly wild or crazy, even then. I imagine that to some, much more sociable people, the idea of always choosing a quiet night in over a “fun” party is unthinkable, possibly even a little sad, and maybe they’re right. The main difference now is that I don't much care what people think anymore. Middle age is kind of awesome like that.