Struggles of the Ambivert

Ambivert- a person who has a balance of introverted and extroverted qualities.

For me, my introvert and extrovert sides switch almost constantly in conversation. People think the Ambiverts get the best of both worlds (to quote a Hannah Montana song). Introverts think they have it hard, but my brain just toys with me each time I try to socialize. It’s bonkers! To illustrate just how weird and annoying this little Ambivert quirk is, here is an example of an ordinary small talk conversation.

Imagine a crowded hallway, filled with people walking in a single direction. A musty smell is in the air, the smell of rotten people. I finish storing some items in a room, when I emerge into the current disgusting humans. My nose is wrinkling, as I grimace, the introvert in me seeping out for the world to see.

As I walk in the same direction the people are going, I see a head poke up from the crowd. Her. A girl (let’s call her… Fishy) I haven’t seen for such a long, long time, not since lunch! Because this was the very last day I was going to be at the facility, I figured that I should go and hug her, just to be friendly. My extrovert spirit pushed me to divert through the crowd, going horizontal to their vertical, while painfully smiling and apologizing to people around me. I almost ran over a guy trying to find my through the crowd.

Finally, I made my way to Fishy, ready, my arms wiggling by my sides as preparation for a hug. The Extreme Extrovert throws down her chess piece, smiling, gazing intently upwards at her tall stature. Fishy will of course, hug me, saying that she’ll miss me. That is how she works.

“Hey,” she says, “You know I’m going to see you at your Some Random Party, right? You don’t really need to give me a hug.”

Or so I thought.

The shining extrovert in my eyes fades away, replaced by a dark, distant introvert gaze. Yeah, right, I thought, scornfully, You Frosted Flake. Of course you’ll be there! I giggled softly at my ill mannered mental insult. You see, Fishy, not to detract from her awesomeness, is sweet, but always comes late, or cancels last minute with plans. So that basically means that she is sort of fits into the flake stereotype. (If you happen to be Fishy…well, um, you are awesome, it’s just my introvert side just hates everyone. Sorry!)

“Bye,” I wave weakly, flustered. Red consumes my cheeks, flushed in embarrassment. Why did I start a talking spree? I think, skipping away, taking refuge at the empty end of the hallway. Paradise is here, alone with nothing holding me back. Or is it back in the crowded end of the hallway, where I could express my feelings with others?

I don’t know. I have the best of both worlds, but the certainty of none, without a strict border to bind me. I’m an Ambivert, after all.


Dogs here. Dogs there. Dogs drooling on your shoe. Dogs everywhere.

Whenever I see a dog on the street, I follow my instinct-like urges to pet such cuteness, but always get a scar on some part of my body. Dogs hate me, but I love them back. It is somewhat sad that this phenomenon reminds me of my friendship with Arachnid.

Here are the stages of my relationship with dogs:

1.An elderly man (or woman) is walking down the street with an adorable dog (or dogs).

2. I swoon over DOI (dog of interest) looking at him with heart eyes, stating how adorable the dog is. This goes on for a couple of minutes.

3. I ask the elderly man (or woman) to pet her dog.

4. The owner looks at me with a lovesick sideways glance, and I repeat that I want to pet the dog, not the owner.

5. The elderly man (or woman) says, “Just pet him/her! You’ve been stalking me for hours!” (Or some other variant of the saying)

6. I pet the dog, savoring the feeling of the fluffy fur on my hands. I take some fur because I want to remember this experience forever, and proceed to walk away.

7. Then the dog bites me.

8. I feel hurt, but again, this could just be a failed sign of companionship, so I show him the proper way.

9. The elderly man (woman) gawks at me, wondering how I could master the art of dog speaking so fluently. He (or she) asks me, “What are you doing with my dog?” He (or she) is clearly jealous of the love I’m giving to his (or her) dog.

10. “Oh,” I say this the same exact way every time, “I love you, too,” Then I pat the jealous owner on the head and leave.

To be honest, I think no attention goes to the jealous dog owners. Arachnid says that taking care of dogs is a struggle, unlike her poky cactuses who don’t require much food or water to survive (this is said for both Arachnid and her cactuses). Dog owners are hardworking people, keeping a new hassle in the house just because he/she is cute and does cool tricks. So next time you spot a dog owner, make sure to give him (or her) a little pat on the head too! They really deserve it!