"Listen to that," my husband said after the door shut behind the last guest.
Then he retreated upstairs to his office and I went downstairs. Alone together at last.
See, we like to have a good time with friends as much as the next person, but perhaps not as boisterous a time as the extroverts. And we need time to recuperate.
As I just read in an article online about introverts, they like to have deep discussions one-on-one but struggle with chit chat and crowds. OK, maybe struggle isn't the right word: they simply prefer silence and thought more often than not.
Close family and intimate friends can tell you that I can chatter away as if I'll never stop talking—though the greater world might have a tough time believing that. Talking has its place, but, quite honestly, Luke and I can take long walks together where we hardly say a word, each lost in deep thought and contemplation. (Such as the walk we just went on while I thought more about what I wanted to write in this blog entry). We can enjoy roaring good times, but in small doses.
So what in the world sparked the idea for these two introverts to have game night at their house twice a month? We like people, we do, and we like listening to people and sharing grand ideas with them. We also like games (I more than Luke) and having a good laugh. And we were trying to decide what to do for our next small group, which we had been doing through our church. Put it all together, though, and it explains why Sunday morning after game night feels so wonderful when we get to sleep in.
Here's a peek at the recent roaring good time.
Scene: I wake Luke from his Sabbath-afternoon nap and say that people will be arriving any moment. He pulls himself from the comfort of the covers and changes three times, deciding what to wear that will be comfortable but not say I-may-fall-asleep-at-any-moment-but-I'm-happy-you-have-invaded-my-house. After putting my book away, I check around again to make sure that things look "tidy" even though I know it won't stay tidy for long. Then we sit and wait, while trying not to look as if we are sitting and waiting. Luke pulls out his guitar and I sip water nonchalantly. No one shows up. The planned meeting time is slipping past when I start getting phone calls and text messages. Some people will be late, others have forgotten how to find our house. I return calls and texts and then wait again, acknowledging how tired I am and that I should have taken a nap as well.
Then the guests start arriving and Luke and I must make chit chat. Fortunately, most of our guests are people we already know (and, yes, we like them), so that makes it a little easier. Not long into the evening, however, I realize that our guests are all chatting away with one another and Luke and I are sitting on the sidelines, nodding, smiling, listening in. I'm at ease until I remember with shock that I am the hostess and maybe people want to eat and drink, so I make a silly segue from conversations about pregnancy and eating to let everyone know that we do have snacks (most graciously provided by several of our guests) and Luke goes up to make popcorn. I feel stranded for a few minutes, wanting something to do as well so naturally I go melt butter.
So people are snacking and talking in several areas of the house—good good—but what about games? Maybe nobody wants to play games, I think. Maybe we don't have the right sort of games for this sort of crowd? Do we make an announcement? Do we just start playing a game and see who joins in? The latter sort of happens, after failed attempts to get anyone but the kids to play Cranium. We settle on Uno, but on the floor, since there aren't enough spots at the table for all who do want to play. As I'm inwardly groaning about how uncomfortable I am, I imagine that others are too. But thankfully we have cheerful good sports who play the game with gusto.
We finish the night with the favorite standby, Apples to Apples, that gets everyone playing or watching. (Thank you creators of this game as it has a little something for everyone!)
More conversation follows and then people make their way to the door and then out the door. Luke and I practically get hysterical laughing about our mental fatigue. Then I get hysterical looking at the kitchen. No worries, however. I save the cleaning for the following day.
We look at the calendar: Whew! Three or four weeks will pass until we have game night again!