What happens when there are no answers? When there are no precedents, no scripts, no etiquette? It is like hitting a wall. A big white wall, with no doors, windows, or signs. My mind draws a total blank. The monkey is finally quiet, struck dumb and sitting in a corner.
This is what happens when one introverted intellectual encounters another introverted intellectual. I always felt I should end up with an extrovert, because I need to be drawn out. I can’t carry the bulk of a conversation, or take the initiative in matters of romance. Trying to do so is unnatural and tiring. So what happens instead? If possible I find myself drawn to the male mirror image of me.
Okay, not exactly, that would be creepy, but close enough. Somehow we manage to talk, cautiously skirting the issues we really want to talk about, and finally managing to get around to what we really want to say one way or another. Plenty of heavy sighs and nervous giggles to go around. And we both seem to be thinking the same things. We are both staring at the same white wall. And we both know it.
When we finally reach frustration, at almost exactly the same time, and take the initiative – great, wonderful, fun, what a relief. And then I run away, because that’s what I’m good at. It didn’t feel like running away. It felt right and good. I know danger when I see it and I also know when to stop.
But now I’m left staring at this same white wall and wondering if I’ll be able to keep the stupid grin off my face at dinner tonight in the very public dining hall.