So, I went to a wedding today. The ceremony was your typical
Christian-Jewish-Buddhist affair (aren't they all?) It was nice, though
perhaps a bit too much chanting for my tastes.
Anyway,
the ceremony was fine, and then I got to the reception. Now, I would
describe myself as a pretty extreme introvert; and a wedding reception
for an extreme introvert is like a visit
to the infectious disease clinic for an extreme germophobe. Even worse
was that it was a wedding reception where I only knew about 4 of the
people there. Fortunately, I was able to sit next to some of them, and
their 13?-year-old kid and I were able to amuse each other up through
the eating part (I'm only a few years less mature than she is, so it
worked out.)
Then
they got to the dancing, which is the part that always causes me to
have some sort of existential crisis. ("Hey, Mr. Germophobe, come look
at this cute little strain of Ebola. Would you like to pet it?")
There are basically two types of dancing:
1.
Upbeat dancing, where there are basically a bunch of people on the
dance floor, nearly all of whom are better at dancing than me, including
the person whose blood alcohol level is probably hovering somewhere
around .25%.
2, Slow dancing, wherein you pair off with your
significant other (Or, if you are a normal person with a level of
self-confidence above Absolute Zero, you ask someone you don't know if
they would like to dance with you.) Then you basically hug each other
for 3 1/2 minutes while slowly shuffling your feet.
Type 1, the
upbeat type, is, as far as I'm concerned, the dance equivalent of making
small talk. For those of you unfamiliar with the introverted brain,
small talk to us is pretty much the conversational equivalent of
fingernails screeching across a chalkboard.
Type 2, the hugging
kind, is far more suited to the introvert personality...assuming you are
really good friends with the other person and comfortable being around
them. If you're an introvert, there will be maybe 4 or 5 people in your
life who fit that description. At the most. Unless you bring one of
those people with you, the statistical odds of one of them being there
are rather low. (Luckily for me, one of those people in my life was
actually at this reception. Unfortunately, she was the bride, and
selfishly insisted on dancing to most of the slow songs with her new
husband.)
So, for me, a large group of people dancing is kinda
like what Thanksgiving is to people with no family or friends: a giant
flashing neon sign that reminds you how great everyone else has it,
while your life is a giant pile of loneliness and despair. Now,
intellectually, I know it's not that bad; but when you're sitting in the
middle of it, it's hard not to feel that way.
And the thing is,
I'm not opposed to dancing, in theory--at least not the Type 2 kind. I
always thought a good date idea would be to just put on some music in
the living room, and slow dance with each other for an hour or two.
Except I'm an extreme introvert, so I don't "date." But feel free to
use that idea if you're not a̶n̶ ̶u̶n̶a̶t̶t̶r̶a̶c̶t̶i̶v̶e̶
̶d̶a̶t̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶l̶o̶s̶e̶r an introvert like me.
I even
started daydreaming about what I would want my own wedding reception to
look like, and I swear I came up with an idea to have a little room in
the reception area, say 10 feet x 10 feet, made of one-way glass (where
people outside could see in, but people inside couldn't see out), and
totally soundproof. My wife and I would spend the entire time in that
little room--eating, dancing, kissing, and not caring one damn bit about
anything that was happening outside. People (only the people we truly
wanted to talk to--there would be a bouncer with a list) would be
allowed in one or two at a time, so we could talk to them at our
leisure. Thinking about this idea objectively, I understand that most
people would think it was massively weird, if not downright anti-social.
But the thing is, I would LOVE this to happen at my wedding. Now, if I
end up marrying a̶n̶y̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶,̶ ̶w̶h̶i̶c̶h̶ ̶i̶s̶
̶u̶n̶l̶i̶k̶e̶l̶y̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶p̶l̶e̶t̶e̶l̶y̶
̶u̶n̶d̶e̶s̶i̶r̶a̶b̶l̶e someone who isn't such an introvert, I'd be
willing to compromise.
But there is one thing I'd insist on: an
ample supply of business-card-sized notes that would immediately be
handed out to anyone who tapped their silverware on their glass to try
to get the newly-wedded couple to kiss each other. The notes would read
thusly: "We are not your trained seals. We will kiss each other
whenever WE damn well feel like it. Would you like to go f*ck yourself
now, or do you need me to tap on a glass to activate your Pavlovian
go-f*ck-yourself response? And thanks for coming to our wedding!"
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