“Everyone’s alone — or so it seems to me.
They make noises, and think they are talking to each other;
They make faces, and think they understand each other.
And I’m sure they don’t. Is that a delusion?”
T.S. Eliot
We’re having a heat wave now. Temperatures in the 90s. Warnings on TV and radio to stay inside if possible and to move slowly if we must go out into the blazing sun. When I open the door to go out, it’s like stepping into an oven. And that experience is similar to what I (as an introvert) feel when I step into a cocktail party. It really does feel like walking into a wall of jaggedy vibes. That’s the first thing that I perceive. The second is the high noise level. People are hollering conversation at each other. All my instincts are hollering at me to get out of there, but I’m determined to carry this through. I plunge into the room.
The magazines and etiquette books (and even my friends and relatives) give advice on how to enter a room. Apparently I should pause in the doorway and allow the other guests to admire my pretty face. Oh dear. I flubbed it. I’m pretty sure that what I had on my face was horror.
On the right, immediately next to the door, is the open bar, with a bartender who moves with the speed of light. I ask for white wine and get a martini. You can tell them apart by the olive. I smile and keep going.
It doesn’t take long for frenetic interaction with dozens of people to drain my energy. If only I could take a bit of a break – maybe just go outside and recharge in the quiet – then I would be able to stay. But there’s no popping in and out of cocktail parties. Once you leave, you’re gone.
Why do cocktail parties exist? Why would anyone want to bellow conversationally with strangers? Is it for networking? A sort of corporate speed-dating? That may be it. I haven’t been invited for cocktails since I retired. I guess I can learn to live without them.
Great post! Cocktail parties strike fear into the hearts of many introverts. I attended my 30th high school reunion last year. Walking into the hotel ballroom, I felt like the proverbial deer caught in headlights. People were gladhanding, shouting conversation, music was blaring. It was a reunion, after all, and that’s ok. The decibal level of the room was comparable to that of a small engine. I was hoping to connect with some of the classmates I didn’t know well in school (none of my friends showed up), but it just didn’t happen – perhaps due to the noise level, crowded room and my uncomfortable demeanor. I leaned on my slightly less introverted husband for support all evening – not much fun for him either! Like many introverts, I want to connect with people – only in small doses. I will rethink that invitation to the 35 year reunion when it comes. Now, skipping my husband’s annual company party every December is not an option. He doesn’t enjoy it much either but it’s something he needs to attend for obvious reasons. It’s just one night out of the year so we manage to get through it!
Leslie, I had a wonderful time at my high school reunion in 2009, but I had the advantage of going with my sister, and the pleasure of reconnecting with a lot of people, including some that had been close friends and some I’d known since grade two. I did NOT bring my husband, as I knew that would be painful for him and therefore wouldn’t have increased my enjoyment in any way.
On the other hand, the music was far too loud for conversation, especially considering there was no dancing, so between that and being afraid to miss talking to the next person I saw, the conversations tended to be short and somewhat unsatisfying.
They announced that the next one would be in 2012, and at first I thought I’d go and try and expand on those brief conversations, but now I’m not so sure. I have a feeling it might be disappointing compared to the last one.
Chris, I was a member of the local Chamber of Commerce for a year. I enjoyed their breakfast events, but found most of the “business after business” events to be a terrible waste of time for me. One of them was so packed that if you spotted someone you knew across the room, it was almost pointless to try and get to them, because by the time you made your way through the crowd, chances are they’d have also moved on. I have developed a certain comfort level approaching strangers (required when you own your own business) but it doesn’t extend to this type of scenario.
I had no idea that there was a “way” to enter a room. I feel the same as you do. I hear the din of voices and I literally want to run in the other direction. When I am alone, I avoid such situations. However, I am married to an extrovert and frequently must plunge into a party situation. To make matters worse, I am also a shy person. Over the years I have learned to make some small talk, but I am not very skilled and find conversations falling flat. In short, cocktail parties make me feel awkward, and impotent and I hate feeling that way. I wish someone would tell me how to avoid being the odd woman out when people split up into conversation partners. That always happens to me!
If cocktail parties make you feel awkward and impotent, then you’re not good at being shallow, egocentric, and social climbing. Maybe I shouldn’t say that, since your husband is an extrovert. Are all people at cocktail parties up to no good? No, I can’t really say that. But the ability to survive one is linked to whether noise and crowds drain our energy.
I had to laugh when you mentioned the proper way to enter a room. Actually, pausing in the doorway is the proper way for somebody who wants to be noticed. Personally, my own correct way to enter a room would be a mad dash for the potted palm to stand behind.
Do people split up into conversation partners? I could do that. I’ve always been okay with one-on-one. What defeats me is conversational bunching – always looks like rugby to me.
I find outdoor events much easier to take than being crammed indoors in someone’s living room or basement.