You know how in college everyone had a party trick? There was the magician guy who loved to pull coins from people’s ears. The girl who was a legitimately talented dancer and would drop it low any chance she could get. The frat bro who bragged that he could spit a watermelon seed the farthest. Well, my party trick was not so much a party trick as a way to deflect attention and get in a workout.
I did wall sits. At every single party. Give me a sweet, flat wall and I’m good to go. I really wasn’t doing it for attention. Doing wall sits gave me something to do and took me to the edge of the party, my favorite place to be. Party workouts became my “thing.” Where’s Mallory? Well, find a wall in the corner and she’s probably there, alone, doing a wall sit. My friends made fun of me (in a loving way), but I didn’t care. It put my social anxiety at bay.
When I was younger, I loved to be the center of attention. Maybe it had to do with being an only child. I was a theater kid who loved the spotlight. I loved talking and hearing myself talk. I was a chatty little human. On every personality test I took I was an extrovert. Being around others gave me energy and made me feel alive. Every year, from age 14-18, I took the Myers-Briggs test (which I have a lot of mixed feelings about now) and got the same answer: ESTJ aka the executive. It rang true.
I remember taking the Myers-Briggs again once I got to college and getting ISTJ. The same letters except swapping out the extrovert for introvert. I remember being startled because being an extrovert was part of my identity. I knew that taking one test didn’t change that for me, but it felt weird. We idolize extroverts in our society and I benefited from that. I was able to hold my own at parties and could talk to anyone for however long. I took Myers-Briggs a few more times in college and never got ESTJ again. I was always an ISTJ gal (the logistician).
College brought out more of my independent side. I went to bed early, didn’t go to many late night parties, and was selective about how I used my time. When I did go to parties, I was doing wall sits or strategizing on how to leave without being rude. But I remained social, chatty, and generally enjoyed talking to people.
As I’ve gotten older, my tolerance for social occasions has diminished significantly. I love small game nights, double dates, and evening adventures, but I usually do not enjoy parties with more than 8 people. Part of the reason is because I value intimacy a lot more. Large group settings don’t allow for intimacy in the same way (which is why when I throw a party it ends up being a sharing fest or we play a game that forces people to be quiet and listen to others).
The pandemic further diminished my capacity for social interaction. I find myself struggling to be at a party for more than 30 minutes without feeling emotionally exhausted. This has become abundantly clear to me as I plan a wedding that more than 90 people will attend. How do I make an event like that intimate? How do I manage to enjoy it?
Part of me mourns the extroverted Mallory that loved parties and the spotlight. I really don’t see much of her anymore. A large reason for that is my own maturity and the development of active listening skills. But I’ve been reflecting recently on how much easier it is in our society to be an extrovert.
I went to a big party a few months ago and sobbed afterwards. By the end of the evening, I was emotionally exhausted from endless small talk in a loud room. I walked out of the party feeling like I was shedding this invisible suit that I have to wear whenever I am in a large group. I know I’m not alone. Twitter tells me so.
Ryan, my partner, and I joke that we are grandparents, consistently in bed by 9:30 pm on Friday nights. I love that about us. Unfortunately I can’t live my life avoiding all large social gatherings. The pandemic taught me the value of a relaxing weekend night (something my neurotic self found uncomfortable pre-pandemic). I need to push myself to go to some social events that take me out of my comfort zone. Maybe that will be my attempt at a New Year’s Resolution. “Go to more parties. We hear they occasionally can be fun.”
Though “Theater Mal” has mostly died, an impish part of me still loves to make a scene. Catch me trying to embarrass Ryan anywhere we go. For example, when we are picking our bags up at the airport, I let Ryan grab my bag and then act like he is a stranger. “Sir! Sir! That’s my bag. Put that down!” Ryan looks at me like I have tossed hot lava in his face. Moments like that bring me so much joy. So I’m dedicating this newsletter to little Mallory, the one who would coordinate solo flash mobs at birthday parties and put on her own play productions in our living room. You’re not totally dead yet!