The extrovert’s manifesto (or: time for some mousy introvert bashing, for a change)
Apparently it’s become a truth universally acknowledged that: extroverts are loud, dominant, suck up all the air in the room and set the conditions in every situation, whilst introverts hover around the edges of society, humbly nourishing themselves on its metaphorical scraps.
This is a lie, spun by the introvert-fake-news-media.
We have had so many years of extrovert-bashing that it’s become the worst trait to have. So terrible in fact, that most extroverts I know have become traitors jumping on the introverts-are-the-real-motor-of-society bandwagon:
(example: “I have 1084098540954805498 friends and am the life and soul of the party but really I love nothing more than curling up with a book and being alone, so really I am an introvert that only comes across like an extrovert. I’m an introverted extrovert.” — now that is having your cake and eating it too, Marie-Antoinette).
Even as I’m typing this, I know that the introverts would cross out 99% of my words and would quietly, modestly whisper “there are a few unnecessary adjectives” and then, when I’m not looking — since introverts always operate out of the shadows — reduce this entire manifesto to a single sentence.
(Which, according to the slithering introvert, if they were copy-editing this text, would be: “As an extrovert I feel all space belongs to me and I also want the tiny sliver of territory quietly occupied by the shy, hard-working, essential, undervalued introverts.”) (actually that’s a lot of adjectives for an introvert so the sentence would probably consist of three judiciously chosen words which I do not have the Sally Rooney level “sparse prose” (yuck) skills for.))
Really, introverts are like your horrible acquaintance with the sustainable recycled everything who always makes you feel terribly guilty –though would never make a critical comment, of course– (and whom you always run into when you just happen to be chewing on a hamburger). But then with words.
Introverts are unbearably, virtuously sustainable when it comes to language, as though words were either a rare resource or carbon-dioxide (which maybe in a way they are, since you exhale as you talk? Don’t @ me, chemists):
Introverts turn it into a sport to use as few words as possible. They are turn-an-old-bike-tire-into-a-practical-handbag level thrifty with words, they are use-toilet-flushing-water-for-your-weekly-shower level sustainable. (disgusting, really). Never a word out of place. Never a word too much.
The few times that an introvert opens the rusty hinges of their jaw to produce an utterance (the introvert would copy-edit this sentence to “when an introvert says something”), it is to recycle. Let me supply you with an example:
Scene (ext.)
ME [or another of the few hunted-down, openly extrovert people remaining]: “….so it was like he was doing something similar to [insert 9379837958797 metaphors and descriptions here] and so I really really dislike that.
INTROVERT [following long and pregnant pause]: I sense that you really dislike that.
See? They just take a tiny part of the extrovert’s words and re-use them. I call that stealing. Society, in which introverts are at the top of the pyramid, calls it: “being a good listener.”
Their meagreness even continues into the digital realm. (Which I do not understand, wasn’t the online world supposed to be a space where introverts can open up as an avatar or their true self or whatever?) Take Whatsapp messages. Without reading, just by scrolling through the conversations on my phone, you could find the traumatic instances when I was in conversation (if you can call it that) with an introvert.
ME: a multi-tier bridal cake of five 320-word green text balloons with similes, emojis, anecdotes — kindness sprinkled all over like your favourite ice cream from your childhood (“ideally scrap both bridal cake and ice cream metaphors, or, if you must, choose one” — the introvert copy-editor murmurs).
INTROVERT: a single, 1cm grey (how appropriate) text balloon: “ok”
But their ok is not just any ok.
Their ok is the ok of an ancient high-priestess: if words are vessels for meaning, in introverts’ cases, their cup runneth over: their ok means everything, containing multitudes of meaning: disappointment, relief, childhood memories, visions — you name it.
That’s the thing with introverts: they say three simple words that appear to come straight out of an easy reader book and the whole world dissolves into a puddle of ecstasy: so deep! so essential! that’s exactly it! (I would not say “the whole world” stutters my introvert copy-editor. But that was to be expected, introverts don’t get hyperbole and believe it is more dangerous than Trump with the.. (“If I may, I think the reader gets it without the Trump metaphor,” mumbles my introvert copy editor)).
Though I do not understand introverts and they never said anything mean to me (it’s all in the eyes), there are many things I know which hold true for every! single! introvert:
Introverts stop eating before they are full.
Introverts use “I am shy” as a humblebrag.
Introverts are “on time is late” people.
Introverts “prefer animals to people”.
Introverts spellcheck everything (easy for them)
Introverts always make one-pot meals with soy chunks.
(Also for breakfast.)
(“I would not use so many double parentheses and dashes in this text, especially not in the same sentence,” murmurs my introvert copy-editor)
Introverts have hobbies such as knitting, painting by numbers & other slow pointless mental torture things
Introverts run the world
Where is this all going you might ask? I don’t know! Ask an introvert to summarise it for you! Since they are — deep sigh — so good at divining the essence. I am just trying to say that US EXTROVERTS HAVE FEELINGS TOO YOU KNOW!
Also we extroverts always do the following:
We keep things cosy
We keep things exciting
We keep everyone distracted from the infinite void of pointlessness that is life through our sparkling being
Now for all of you offended introverts already sharpening your numb-from-nail-biting fingers to write mean things about me in the comments (e.g. “did you just get dumped by an introvert?” So mean! So overtly condensed! So introvert-y!):
this text is ironic! it is! It is just an expression of my self-loathing!
(Sorry I had to be so obvious, but introverts are as good at understanding the concept of irony as Alanis Morisette. They’re so bloody literal.)
Now comes my coded message to my extrovert brethren and sisters in hiding:
I only have one message for you (or actually, five): hold on to your marvellous, loud, overtly-metaphor-using, Carrie Bradshaw-loving selves. You Know Who You Are. I Believe In You, I Deeply… (“I would finish the article now as you’ve made your point,” lisps my introvert copy-editor. I’ll listen to it. But just this one time.)
