15. Never


 Never let the lack of a title stop  you from blathering on about something. This is how extraverts operate. They start talking to see what they are thinking or feeling. It works for them as they do psychic laundry shamelessly in public. They feel energized by their social interactions. And why not?  Others find them charming or genuine, maybe both. Meanwhile introverts craft their thoughts internally and hatch out what they are going to say, if they say anything. The introvert can be content, fully content, sitting by himself for hours, polishing his thoughts like rare coins. This really pisses off the extraverts, and I think introverts know and enjoy this knowledge. It’s like the old sado-masochist joke. The masochist says, “Hit me”. The sadist says, “No”.

I’ll bet that you can read ten blogs and get right at which author is introverted and which is extraverted. Stop reading right now and do the research. I’ll pause here till you get back. Pause…. pause…………………………………………………………………………………………

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Okay, what did you find?  What do you mean, “I couldn’t tell”? It should be as plain as the nose on their faces…oh,yeah. No faces on the internet. It’s just writing not social interaction. Dang! I thought I had something. I am big enough to admit my errors, which are legion. Those stupid introverts won’t admit to anything. They just quietly polish their words like cows chewing cuds. That’s fine for cows, but people, come on, spit it out!

I will find something worth saying here eventually.

I shaved my gray and white goatee on Sunday. Several people looked at me and squinted. “You look different”, they said. “Yep”, was all I’d say. I was not going to pop the intergalactic tension as the other person ran their computer facial recognition system against the face before them. “You cut your hair, right?” “Yep.”  (See, I could do the introvert thing too. I just kept my truth to myself for a while, which was difficult for a verbal vomiter like me.)

My daughter Grace is an extravert and a people pleaser, and I love her dearly. She is my only faithful blog reader so I have to be careful here. When she was in high school, she was trying to make a point and win some privilege. Her rhetorical trump card went something like this. “I tell you guys way more than my friends ever tell their parents. And you don’t trust me enough to do x. Well…I just won’t tell you anything!”  Fortunately I did not have anything in my mouth. I laughed out loud and said, “You would burst wide open if you didn’t tell us what was on your mind.” By then she laughed at the glaringly obvious and ridiculous truth. She was like that and would have noticed my goateelessness except that we haven’t skyped in a while.  Never threaten something you cannot follow through with, kids.

My lovely and long suffering  wife did not notice the lack of facial hair, though she often complained of it being like rusted barbed wire when she kissed me. On occasions over the past 9 months of facial hair history she has put both hands on the whiskers and attempted to kiss me in the opening between her thumbs. It was very awkward and a buzz killer. Imagine cutting out a hole in your plastic coffee lid and placing your lips in there. Then go kiss someone with the lid in place. If you are not arrested, then you will be disappointed with the results.  Just between you and me, she is an introvert too. But I’m not gonna tell her that. She’s gonna have to read it here first. Never coming out of my lips stuck in a hole in a plastic coffee lid. Nope.

Jake at the coffee shop tells me that his wife loves facial hair, but he doesn’t. Once he had a moustache for two weeks and she was thrilled. She seemed to like the wires on her skin when she kissed him. (Back to the masokiss/sadist thing above.) The simple solution would be to trade wives, but that would be very complicated and likely end in two deaths, one for sure.  Hey, it’s never gonna happen. Let’s get that right on the record now.

Maybe a title would have been a good starting place.  I plan to wear out all the adverbs I can concoct and some that are unconcoctable and perhaps illegal. That’s the plan anyway. I know, I have to finish the hitchhiking story. I was in Oklahoma, I believe, when I left off. Yes, I will get to Long Beach, California eventually.

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