What am I missing out on in life if I am an introvert?

I’m an introvert and I’ve been almost killed by the extroverts in my life.

Here is the difference between an introvert and an extrovert. The only difference: an introvert “recharges” while alone. An extrovert gets more energy when around people.

So at a party, I need to take a break. Or not go. An extrovert can dive in and be full of energy and stay that way.

An introvert can’t go from meeting to meeting. An extrovert can network all day long without a break.

And so on.

So you are not missing out on anything by being an introvert.

Let me tell you what you are gaining.

A) you will listen better

B) you will read more. Maybe even write more or plan more or be more creative.

C) you will think about your relationships more and what they mean to you.

D) you will enjoy your time by yourself and appreciate the times when you are alone.

E) you will be more creative about how to avoid group events where you know you will have no fun.

It’s not better to be an introvert or an extrovert. But I prefer being an introvert.

I dated an extrovert once. I thought after three months I was going to kill myself. She constantly wanted to go out until 4 in the morning. She constantly needed to be around people.

If I wanted to be alone or not go out, I’d have to deal with the guilt of that and worry about what she would think of me.

It wasn’t her fault at all. It was how she was built. And I’m sure there are ways for introverts and extroverts to love each other. Heck, we loved each other. But we couldn’t be together.

I am alone right now writing this. I’m about 50 feet from a beach with all sorts of people hanging around drinking and swimming and laughing with each other.

But I’m going to stay inside tonight. I’m going to read. I’ll write. I’m going to look out the window. I’m going to be happy.

Why are some very smart people so quiet?

I recall having lunch with Freeman Dyson. After lunch, I thought about it. Dyson had been very quiet, except when asking a few key penetrating questions. I had been flattered that he had been interested in my answers, and I had talked on and on and on.

Dyson seemed to have enjoyed the lunch, and he seemed eager to sit down with me at subsequent opportunities, but I realized, although he may have learned a few things from me, I had learned almost nothing from him. I almost felt tricked. In fact, he was just practicing something he had developed over the years: the skill of listening.

So I really did learn something important from that lunch when he was so quiet. I had lunch with him again the next day, and I managed to keep my mouth relatively shut, and to concentrate on asking probing questions. I was able to draw him out and learn a lot about his incisive views of physics, math, and the world.

The art of listening, listening deeply enough with concentration and with alertness, active listening that enables you to ask the relevant questions in real time (rather than to think of them afterwards), that kind of listening is a skill that I first observed when Freeman Dyson applied it to me.