I Can’t Go To Your Holiday Party Because I’m An Introvert

These Netflix shows aren’t going to watch themselves.

Author by John Devore
Art credit: Isabel Moore

I can’t go to your holiday party because I’m an introvert who has better things to do.

Here is a short list of those things:

1. Light stretching
2. Slowly drinking coffee out of a big mug with both hands while staring out the window
3. Ignoring texts

So, my friend, enjoy your little Yuletide get-together without me. I’ll be busy making holiday-themed collages out of construction paper and old magazines.

I know you don’t understand why I choose to stay in my safe, cozy, one-bedroom apartment instead of slogging all the way to you. But you wouldn’t understand because you’re not an introvert. You’re probably an extrovert, or worse, a warm, emotionally stable person who can relate to other people.

How do I know you’re not an introvert? Well, for one thing, you invited me to a holiday party.

I’m an introvert. Ask my life coach. He says I’m an introvert, which is just what I would expect from a gemini with a cancer rising.

I didn’t choose to be an introvert. Does the shark choose to be a shark? Does the panther choose to be a panther? One of the great things about being an introvert is that you can ask questions out loud and not have to worry about ever hearing answers.

As an Introvert-American, I am used to all the jokes. They don’t bother me. All I need is a couch, some takeout, and a steady 9-to-5 job that doesn’t require I make eye contact with anyone.

You know you’re an introvert if, like me, the needs of friends and family are inconvenient to your need to eat Pad Thai and f**k around on Instagram.

You know you’re an introvert if you hate crowds, or couples, or anyone who isn’t delivering your Pad Thai.

You’d understand all of this if you were an introvert, but you’re not. You know what made me realize I’m an introvert? One day I took a nap and overslept, totally missing a holiday party. And when I woke up, I thought, this is great.

But back to the point: Why would I have responded to your RSVP when I knew that you knew I wasn’t going to attend. Next time, just send the invitation, as usual, and then immediately assume I’m going to decline it.

Ugh, I hate conflict, because I’m a coward. And an introvert! But at least I’m honest, right? I tell it like it is. For instance, you’ve really let yourself go since Deborah left you for her life coach.

So there it is. I can’t go to your holiday party. Yes, I know your holiday party was last weekend.

I can’t go to your holiday party last weekend or next year or ever because I’m an introvert who has better things to do. Like talking to my plants, or watching otter videos on YouTube, or staring blankly at walls. I would prefer smelling my own personal stench to attending any holiday party.

I don’t know about you, but learning is a lifelong process, so that’s why I spend hours reading Wikipedia by myself.

Have you seen Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 on Blu-ray three times? That is what I thought. Here’s a warning: The unexamined life is not worth living.

It’s not that your holiday parties aren’t fun. I hear they are holiday parties. Who doesn’t love drinking homemade eggnog? Also, who doesn’t love flirting with salmonella?

You know why they call it small talk? I don’t care, can I go home now? Whenever anyone asks me what my favorite holiday song is, I tell them it’s “All I Want For Christmas Is To Be Left Alone.”

Let me also add that I don’t need to go to your holiday party to learn that you have a huge apartment filled with expensive furniture because I can learn about all the things you have that I don’t have by coming over to your place on, oh, any old Tuesday night.

I really regret not coming over and coveting your cheese spread, but I was too busy screaming into my pillow because I get lonely sometimes. (Don’t worry, though, I adopted a cute mutt. We hang out.)

But not lonely enough to go to your holiday party. No offense. The last time I went, which was for five minutes a hundred years ago, I really enjoyed sitting in your bathroom with the door locked.

We have really lost the true meaning of Christmas, which is, as far as I’m concerned, to eat glazed ham with your fingers while watching Love Actually.

Anyway, I have a screenplay to write about an introvert who is a brilliant computer hacker who has international adventures with many beautiful women. It’s called, tentatively, Why I Didn’t Go To Your Holiday Party.

If I don’t write angry tweets to celebrities and businesses, who will? Who? You? Ha! Don’t make me laugh. The only thing YOU care about are the people who trust your word and depend on you.

These Netflix shows aren’t going to watch themselves, you know? These saltine crackers aren’t going to slather themselves in peanut butter, okay? These pimples aren’t going to pop themselves, understand?

I am a busy man with a lot on his spinning plates. When was the last time you had to break in a pair of socks? I’ve got a list of things to do: organize my spoons. Nap. Drink Kombucha and text my life coach. He lives in Sedona.

Oh, really? You got me a present? How thoughtful. Can you UPS it to me?

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About Woolly

A curious exploration of comfort, wellness, and modern life — emotionally supported by Casper. It’s a beautiful magazine published by a mattress. Come on, you know it’s not the weirdest thing to happen this year. The first issue includes a love letter to comfort pants, a skeptic's guide to crystals, and an adulting coloring book.