Too many friends

There are plenty of people who feel lonely and short of close friends. But spare a thought for those people who're so addicted to collecting friends that they have too many of them and would like to lose a few.

Anya Meyerowitz thought that having lots of friends would make her feel better about herself. She seized every opportunity to make new friends but all that happened was that her friendships became more and more superficial and unsatisfying.

"Where I got to instead was a place where I found many of these hurriedly acquired friendships to be draining, tiresome and anxiety-inducing. The more I weaved my way into other people's lives, the less I felt a sense of community. I was juggling a full social calendar that left me feeling empty."

Not a problem I have to deal with. My opportunities for making new friends are strictly limited as I've been retired for 6 years and my only regular socialising is with my monthly book group and a few residual friends.

It seems a bit naive to think that the more friends you have, the happier you'll be. Obviously you'll have less time to spend with each one and inevitably the friendships are likely to get shallower. More is less, you might say.

It's interesting that she managed to keep so many friends for so long. I think for most of us friends come and go quite quickly. You discover something off-putting about them, they move somewhere many miles away, they turn out to be hopelessly needy, or you simply don't have the time to keep in touch.

Anya doesn't tell us what she did after her sudden disillusion. Did she have the nerve to discard half her friends? I'd love to know.

Oiling the wheels

I'm gradually coming to the conclusion that extroversion is the healthy norm, while introversion is an inconvenient aberration.

It's extroverts who oil the wheels of social activity, chatting to people, making connections, keeping things going. Introverts on the other hand, by keeping to themselves and avoiding contact with others, aren't keeping anything going but are leaving other people to do the social donkey work.

And I say that as an introvert myself. Of course I can make all the usual excuses for my behaviour. I was brought up in a very anti-social household, I just happen to be an introvert and that's hard to change, or most social events are banal and tedious so why bother to attend them?

But perhaps instead of trotting out the familiar excuses (which no doubt extroverts are sick of hearing), I should figure out how to engage other people and make more connections with them?

I sometimes imagine what life would be like if most people were introverts and only a few were extroverts. It would surely be a disaster. Everyone keeping to themselves and ignoring other people. Social activities fading away. Nobody to promote new initiatives. And the remaining extroverts afraid of being too exuberant or talking too much or generally alienating the introverts.

Am I being too hard on myself? Am I exaggerating the downside of introversion? Am I exaggerating the benefits of extroversion? Am I conveniently ignoring those extroverts who love the sound of their own voice and jabber away non-stop? Am I ignoring those extroverts who are simply tactless and embarrassing?

The jury's still out. I'm still mulling it all over. So watch this space.

PS: I think I might be a sort of shy extrovert - an underlying extrovert who's shy about letting my extroversion rip.

Domestic cocoon

It's still seen as normal to actively socialise. If you confess to being not much of a socialiser, or even preferring your own company to the company of others, you're still seen as a bit abnormal, a bit weird, a bit standoffish. You're dismissed somewhat disparagingly as "a loner".

I have to admit I'm one of the weird brigade. As Patti Smith says "I'm not a very social person. I could go days without talking to anyone in particular".

I like the odd chat with my neighbours or my book club mates, or my hairdresser. It's convivial and energising. But I don't need constant company. I'm very happy pursuing my own interests, thinking my own thoughts, wandering through the far reaches of my imagination. What more do I need?

I know most psychologists declare that socialising is good for your mental and physical health, and that too little socialising is bad for you, but that's a bit of a sweeping judgment. We're all different, and some of us are quite healthy enough keeping ourselves to ourselves.

I'm glad the hairdresser's daughter is thriving at her new school. I'm intrigued that the next door neighbour has taken up cycling. But I don't need these chance conversations to maintain my well-being. They're rather like that extra slice of cake that I don't really need because I've had plenty of cake already.

But the emphasis on a chatty "normality" means many people are still too embarrassed to admit they're reluctant socialisers. So when necessary, when they're obliged to mingle with others, they pretend to be eager to talk, or even to be the life and soul of the party. Then they thankfully retreat to their domestic cocoon.

Isn't one of the true pleasures in life lounging on the settee with a good book, oblivious to the rest of the world?

A bit of company

Loneliness isn't just a problem for older people, as commonly assumed. In fact studies suggest young people are more likely to feel lonely than the old. The image of young people as forever clubbing and surrounded by bosom pals is a bit of a myth.

A new apartment block in Helsingborg in Sweden aims to reduce loneliness in several ways. Firstly around half the tenants are young people under 25, while the rest are pensioners. Secondly all new residents have to sign a contract requiring them to spend at least two hours a week with the other residents. And thirdly individual flats are fairly small while the communal areas are spacious and cosy.

You might think some residents would object to such enforced socialising and retreat to their own flats, but on the contrary the scheme seems to be working well.

With (apparently) no pressure at all from the block's managers, residents are happily getting to know each other and saying how much better they feel as a result.

I think I'd be quite happy there myself (assuming no Jenny of course). Two hours a week of socialising is hardly onerous, and I'm sure I would benefit from a bit of company. It would be fun to talk to a few young people and get their take on life, and it would be good to talk to other oldies and see how they're dealing with old age.

You'd have to be careful how you selected people for the scheme though. You wouldn't want persistent moaners or political obsessives or crashing bores. If there were people you had to avoid, that would defeat the whole idea.

My mum complained constantly of loneliness in her last few years, and being in a scheme like this would have greatly improved her life.

Loneliness is too often seen as "one of those things" you just have to cope with. This scheme shows that doesn't have to be the case.

Pic: residents Fia Stegroth (20) and Gunnel Ericsson (86)

Temperamentally subdued

Some people are naturally sociable. They make friends easily, they're gregarious, they enjoy being with others and mope when they aren't, they love throwing dinner parties, they're born chatterboxes, and they can get on with just about anyone from any background.

I'm not like that at all, quite the reverse. I like the occasional chat with other people, I like the occasional party, but in general I love being on my own and relishing my own company. I don't make friends easily, I'm not a chatterbox, dinner parties make me nervous as hell, and there are many people I simply can't get on with.

I envy those who are naturally sociable. It makes social occasions so much easier, it means you're comfortable in a crowd of people, there's less fear and anxiety, you're not stuck for words, and you've got plenty of friends to talk to when you're in trouble.

It's hard to say why I'm more of an introvert. It may be genetic or the way I was brought up (my parents weren't that sociable and seldom invited people round), it may be my confidence-sapping years at boarding school (which was totally the wrong choice for my personality), it may be too much exposure to egotistical loudmouths at one social event after another. But whatever the cause, I'm just not a people person.

It doesn't help that the "less sociable" are still often seen as inadequate rather than different, snooty and standoffish rather than temperamentally subdued, wet blankets and party poopers rather than fans of quiet enjoyment.

But one thing I always wonder - how do the socialisers keep up the pace? Where do they find the energy? Rushing from one social event to another, chattering nineteen to the dozen, organising ten things at once, keeping all the balls in the air. If I lived that way, I'd be chronically exhausted.

Excuse me while I unplug the phone and curl up on the sofa with a big fat book....

Me myself I

I do like my privacy. I like being able to think or emote or plan or just be totally vacant without other people intruding on me and obliging me to interact.

I want to be able to choose when I mingle with other people and when I don't. There are times when I love socialising and crave other people's company. But there are also times when I want to be on my own and the slightest hint of conversation makes me want to flee.

I would hate to live in a household so full of other people - children, grandchildren, parents, neighbours - that you never have a moment to yourself unless you actually leave the house and vanish for a while.

Luckily I've spent most of my adult life either on my own or with one other person (Jenny) who is often elsewhere and allows me plenty of privacy. I once spent a month in a shared flat that turned into a chaotic multi-person squat. That was enough communal living for a lifetime.

Some people appreciate the idea of social privacy, which is helpful.They understand that even if you're in a public place or in  a social gathering, you don't necessarily want to chat ad nauseam. If you look as if you're enjoying a moment of quiet reflection, they'll pass you by and approach someone else.

Of course the main downside of privacy is loneliness. Too much privacy can easily become chronic loneliness as thinking your own thoughts stops being a pleasure and turns into a tiresome albatross. Fortunately my thoughts are so sparky and so fertile that I seldom want to escape from them. The more the merrier in fact.

Oh, sorry if I've intruded on your privacy. I'll stop now and leave you alone....

Sometimes brave

I'm a strange mixture of extreme cowardice and surprising bravery. A group of youths on a street corner can make me cringe nervously. But I'll take on a ruthless boss who wants to undermine my working conditions.

Any kind of visible aggression makes me very jittery, and that can include angry expressions, threatening postures, gloating laughter, even lads kicking footballs. A huddle of teenage males usually exudes enough aggressive undertones for me to cross the street to avoid them.

In the workplace though I've often challenged managers who want to mess about with my working hours or salary or work routines. If I feel unfairly treated, I'll square up to them. I spent four years as a trade union rep doing the same for my workmates.

I've often been the lone voice in a gathering of diehards, expressing my own heretical opinions whether they like it or not. I'll voice my atheism to a bunch of dyed-in-the-wool believers. I'll tell a roomfull of meat-chompers that I'm a vegetarian. I'll lob my socialism into a bevy of hardline conservatives.

But I can also get absurdly shy at social events. Faced with a sea of unfamiliar faces, I get tongue-tied, my brain freezes, my self-confidence withers, I don't know what to say.

Public speaking is equally scary. I've never given a formal speech or presentation in my life, and I hope I never have to. I'm sure I'd say all the wrong things and seriously embarrass myself.

And in restaurants, like most people, I'm loathe to complain about the food, even if it's virtually inedible. I just valiantly gulp it down or leave it. I don't like to make a fuss or be the centre of attention.

I guess what all this amounts to is that I have a very unpredictable response to danger. Sometimes I flee, sometimes I walk straight into it. And sometimes I don't even notice it, I just do what I have to do.

How am I doing?

Being too self-conscious is a recog-nised problem, but what about being too other-conscious? Just as awkward, just as embarr-assing, and equally likely to stop you enjoying life.

Like the way women are hyper-sensitive to other people's comments about their appearance, which results in most women disliking or even hating how they look. Or the way men monitor comments about their lack of masculinity, terrified they might be seen as "gay" or "girlie" or "wimpy".

Then there's socialising. While we're busy chatting away, we're privately wondering how our conversation is going down. Am I creating a good impression or do I look like a complete plonker? Do people like me or do they think I'm a pain in the neck?

I'm quite prone to being too other-conscious myself. Of course we should all be aware of other people and how they see us. But I spend too much time wondering what people are thinking and not wanting them to be too scandalised or bemused or offended. Entirely pointless, since speaking one's mind has to mean stepping on someone's toes now and again.

At least I don't go a step further and imagine what they might be thinking. Unlike the rampantly paranoid, I don't convince myself someone's got it in for me and is secretly hoping for my downfall. I don't dream up all sorts of devious plots and manoeuvrings. That's because I basically see other people as well-disposed towards me.

And at least I'm not so paranoid about other people's hidden thoughts that I avoid socialising altogether and flee from unexpected conversations. I enjoy talking to people, it's just that I always secretly wonder if I'm crossing some unspoken boundary or committing some unknown social gaffe.

This wariness probably owes something to my father, who used to say exactly what he thought regardless of the fall-out. If anyone got angry or upset he simply accused them of over-sensitivity. So I've gone in the other direction and have a tendency to walk on eggshells.

That's a bit girlie, isn't it? A bit wimpy in fact. Goodness knows what people are saying about me....

To err is human

The excellent Miss Scarlet says she is aiming to be elegant and sophist-icated. That's a tall order. Two qualities that are hard to carry off successfully. Only a rare few have the knack.

I'm certainly not one of them. Elegant and sophisticated I am not. The very idea is laughable. At any social event, I'm the one who's sure to walk into a cupboard instead of the toilet, say the wrong thing, not know the correct way to eat spaghetti, demolish a priceless vase, forget everyone's names and not notice the hostess is six months pregnant.

But those people who really are effortlessly sophisticated - aren't they impressive (and infuriating)? She (and it's usually a she) glides into a room like a fish into a lake, completely in her element, nonchalantly greeting one person after another (remembering all their names instantly), saying just the right thing to put them at their ease, tossing off a deft witticism or two, avoiding all the awkward moments that lie in wait for the rest of us (she handles her spaghetti as nimbly as a Sicilian) and drawing constant gasps of admiration and envy as she proceeds.

I exaggerate of course. Nobody is that perfect. Everyone fluffs their lines from time to time,even the Belle of the Ball. And personally, while always admiring Ms Effortlessly Sophisticated, the people I actually warm to are the ones who do fluff their lines, the ones who try so hard to be suave but still manage to tread on the dog or spill tomato sauce on their pants. They're the ones I actually want to get to know, because they're so clumsily and endearingly human. And much more fun.

To err is human, to forgive divine - Alexander Pope

Weekend woe

How very sad that so many people invent exciting, glamorous weekends for themselves because the reality of lonely or humdrum days off is too embarrassing for them to admit to. They want to be in a wild social whirl like everyone else.

A new survey says that 27 per cent of us deliberately lie about our weekend activities to impress others, concocting parties, romantic flings or even trips abroad, because the humble truth of gawping at the TV or having a lie-in makes us seem pathetically middle-aged and past it.

It seems that having lots of friends and a frantic social life is now such a desirable norm that people with empty diaries who just want to watch reruns of The Wire feel there's something wrong with them. They're afraid other people will see them as dysfunctional misfits.

But what's really sad isn't their preferred lifestyle and their lack of company. What's sad is the fact that they choose to fabricate elaborate lies rather than saying, that's how I am, that's how I spend my weekends, what's it to you?

I suspect humdrum weekends are probably the norm for most people, despite assumptions to the contrary. If you actually looked into people's homes on a Saturday evening, you'd find plenty of people in decidedly unglamorous settings, unblocking the sink or changing the cat litter.

And just suppose two workmates are both lying to each other about their weekends. They're telling bigger and bigger whoppers to impress the other. If A has been to a luxury hotel in New York with the sexiest woman in town, then B has to produce an even hotter woman in an even swankier location. While they both know they were really sprawled on the settee guzzling fish and chips.

Well, I don't mind admitting that I spend most of my weekends doing nothing more exciting than cosying up to my loved one, ploughing through a paperback or ambling round the neighbourhood. There are no lightning trips to Venice or celebrity-packed parties. Unless you count that little jaunt with Penelope Cruz of course....

Old and boring

Are all older men terminally boring? One journalist thinks so, and she's caused a bit of a row among other journos who happen to be older men. How dare she, they fume. What a cheek!

Personally, I don't know that many older men, so I couldn't say if she's right or not. But speaking for myself, I'm fizzing with wit and wisdom and I have fascinating opinions on every subject* - well, perhaps not negative entropy or mulching techniques.

But Liz Hodgkinson, who clearly has met a large number of older men, concludes that they are mostly humourless, tongue-tied, ill-at-ease, lifeless and dull as ditchwater. Older women on the other hand are firing on all cylinders and excellent company. And they're usually talking to the other women because it's much more fun.

"I often wish I could invite the female half of a couple to lunch and leave the husband at home" she says. What should be an enjoyable social occasion can easily become "excruciatingly painful" as the men have so little to say.

I find it hard to believe older men are so lacklustre. Do they not enjoy gossip? Or setting the world to rights? Or just recalling that crazy person in the supermarket? Or are they simply intimidated by all these confident, articulate women?

I can think of older men I know who are indeed monosyllabic and brain-dead. But I know others who are bundles of energy, talking nineteen to the dozen and taking a keen interest in everything around them.

I need some feedback here. What's your experience of older men? Are most of them spent forces or are they full of life? Is Liz Hodgkinson right or is she just man-bashing for the sake of a good story?

* No false modesty here....

Attention avoider

Some people love to be the centre of attention, surrounded by a phalanx of admirers. I'm quite the opposite, I prefer to be somewhere in the background chatting to one or two people at the most.

If I do happen to be at the centre of things, I usually find it very embarrassing. Seeing so many people waiting on my every word is sure to stop me in my tracks and render me speechless. Whatever I have to say will never be witty and sparkling enough for all those expectant faces.

I don't understand why so many people want to be famous, relishing the prospect of their slightest move being followed by the media and the gawping millions, their every minor mistake flashed instantly around the world. How can anyone enjoy that sort of goldfish bowl existence?

I tend to think the attention-seekers just have huge egos that need to be constantly fed, but that's probably unfair. More likely they're just natural extroverts who enjoy sharing their vibrant personalities with as many people as possible. And I have to admit such gregarious souls are a necessary balance to hesitant shrinking violets like myself. If you want a party to go with a swing, a room full of ruminating introverts isn't going to help.

When extroverts encounter retiring corner-huggers like me, they always want to sort me out, to give me a taste for the limelight. You enjoy an audience really, they say, everyone does, and all these people are just dying to know more about you.

Maybe they are, I reply, but the thought of a dozen razor-sharp brains weighing up my every sentence and deducing heaven knows what makes me want to run for the hills. That level of scrutiny is way too scary.

I'll just keep hovering in the wings, if you don't mind.

Noisy eaters

For some people, social occasions can be completely ruined by noisy eaters. The sound of their companions munching, crunching, slurping and sucking drives them round the bend. They just want to flee somewhere where food is not being eaten and the dreadful background noise ceases.

There's a big difference between Jenny and me here. I've never been bothered by eating noises but some sounds make Jenny cringe with discomfort. She's been known to leave the room when I'm eating something particularly cacophonous.

It seems this horror of eating noises is surprisingly common. Many people have their pet aversions to the consumption of cornflakes or toast or crisps or apples. Or drinks being slurped or sucked through straws.

Whole households can have their private rules about what can or cannot be eaten, and in what way, in order to soothe the delicate sensibilities of one family member or another.

It's a particularly knotty problem in public places like offices or trains, when objecting to someone else's noisy eating might bring a very angry response and the charge of being a tight-arsed killjoy out to spoil other people's pleasure.

In any case, it may not be possible to mute the noise. If it's determined by the way you eat, the size of your jaw, or the shape of your teeth, there may be nothing you can do about it.

No, eating noises don't perturb me in the slightest. Food is meant to be eaten and enjoyed, every which way. What annoys me far more is the quantity of food-related debris dumped thoughtlessly on pavements - crisp packets, takeaway cartons, coffee cups, sandwich wrappers. Why can't the eaters just keep their rubbish to themselves?

Pic courtesy of Guardian/Getty Images

Say cheese

You'd think that someone who ate virtually nothing but cheese would be really unhealthy. How could you possibly get all the nutrients you need? And wouldn't you be begging for a heart attack?

But it seems that Vicki Zukiewicz is quite healthy on just such a diet. The only things she can stomach apart from cheese are the odd potato, hunk of bread or slice of pizza (with cheese topping). Yet she's alive and well.

She says the texture or taste or smell of anything else turns her right off. No matter what delicious meal her husband is eating, she won't touch it. Try as she might, she can't overcome her engrained aversion.

It creates huge problems when she's socialising. In fact she avoids any social occasions involving food and usually eats at home, where at least her phobia is understood and allowed for.

Naturally everyone tries to psychoanalyse her, asking her what childhood experience brought this on, and diagnosing all sorts of fancy conditions. But she pooh-poohs them and says that's just the way she is and there's no rhyme or reason for it.

I do wonder how healthy she really is, though. Does she have regular medical checks to confirm her physical fitness? Is she a normally energetic, alert 32 year old? Or is she storing up trouble for the future?

I've heard of people with similarly limited diets before - and they were surprisingly healthy too. There was a boy who ate only marmite sandwiches and apparently came to no harm.

It seems awfully sad though that she finds so many tasty foods utterly repugnant. I can't imagine going without the fantastic flavours and aromas of all my favourite dishes. I would feel bereft, diminished, shorn of an essential everyday pleasure.

And much as I like cheese, eating it non-stop would smother its appeal pretty quickly.

Photo: Vicki Zukiewicz

PS: Cheese has more nutrients than you might think, including calcium, phosphorus, protein, amino acids, vitamin A, the B vitamins, iodine, magnesium, zinc, sodium, aluminium, nickel and selenium.

Inhibition

I’m often a bit inhibited when I’m talking to other people. I find it hard just to chatter away about anything and everything. There’s always a part of me that’s nervous I’m going to say something totally stupid or inappropriate or offensive.

So I tend to be hesitant, weighing my words and checking my thoughts as if I’m about to come out as a werewolf. Too many doubts and I fall silent, letting someone more confident make the running.

Alcohol doesn’t help, in fact it hinders, slowing me down so much that it’s an effort to say anything at all. And other people’s conversation stops making sense and simply washes over me.

People say to me, but you’re unlikely to say anything really awful, just relax and let whatever wants to come out come out. But asking me to relax is guaranteed to put me instantly on guard.

One thing that can melt my inhibitions though is enthusiasm. If I’m really fired up about something, my usual reticence vanishes and I start babbling away like a four year old, quite unconcerned about other people’s reactions.

Okay, I have certain thoughts and feelings I don’t want to reveal. But so do lots of people, and it doesn’t stop them gabbing away nineteen to the dozen. They manage to keep their secrets without damming up everything else.

So if it’s hard to chatter, why not stay silent? Well, that can work with someone I know well, who finds companionship enough. But with strangers, silence becomes awkward. They expect the social lubricant of a steady flow of words.

There’s an old cliché “Engage brain before opening mouth”. On the contrary. In my case, too much thinking and my mouth seizes up. What I need to know is how to switch the bloody thing off.
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Isn't Gok Wan absolutely adorable? Did you know that at school he was bullied for being fat and gay? And that now he supports the anti-bullying charity Kidscape?

The joy of blogs

Do you want the pleasures of socialising without the drawbacks? Do you want to meet interesting, witty people but be free of their irritating quirks? Then blogs are for you!

It suddenly occurred to me that this is the big attraction of blogging. You can contact an infinite number of people, see whether they've got something stimulating to say, and either read more or walk away and try someone else. No conditions and no obligations except to offer a few blogs of your own that others might be interested in.

Are you serious, say the anti-blog diehards. How can staring at a screen possibly be a substitute for face to face encounters, flesh and blood exchanges in a convivial throng of real human beings loosened up by a few glasses of the amber nectar?

Well yes, such encounters can sometimes be exhilarating and inspiring, but too often they're just a disappointing let-down. You get stuck with the biggest bore in the room, the person you want to talk to is being monopolised by someone else, you've had to buy an incredibly expensive round, and some clumsy eejit has just spilt red wine over your jacket. Who needs it?

In blogworld you can forget all these tiresome trade-offs and just indulge yourself painlessly. No need to buy drinks, food, taxis, fancy clothes or presents. No need to host a dinner party or blitz-clean the house. No need to go out in driving rain or a howling gale. No need to put up with someone's nasty personal habits or bad breath. No need to fend off lecherous males or garrulous females.

And isn't there a whiff of hypocrisy here? How many of these snooty anti-bloggers who despise impersonal communication are following all the gossip about celebrities they'll never meet? Or watching soap operas about completely fictitious characters?

Well then - just sit back, enjoy yourself and fill your brain with new ideas, strange experiences and whacky personalities. And all without stepping outside your own four walls. Who could ask for more?

Nevertheless....

It has to be said there are some flesh and blood relationships I could never do without, like the one with Jenny - as I explained earlier (Lovers Reunited). Sometimes human beings are so amazing just as they are they're irreplacable. Well, every good idea has its limits.