Vacuuming Confetti After Party

I’m Not Going to Your Party

I’m not going to your party.

I’m not going to your birthday party. I’m not going to your Halloween bash. I’m not going to your Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas / Hanukkah / Kwanzaa / Festivus shindig, Memorial Day picnic, Labor Day cookout, or even that soccer league you wanted me to try because it got you out of that rut when Alex dumped you.

I know these things are important to you.

I know seeing your favorite people all gathered in one place fills you up more than a pumpkin spice latte.

But I need you to understand that everything you love, I hate.

You are an extrovert. You like networking, and going to Luke Bryan concerts and baseball games, and saying things out loud that you didn’t plan in your head first.

I am an introvert. I like avoiding people I know at the grocery store, and wearing headphones without music playing, and scheduling appointments by email because phone calls make me anxious.

So when you invite me to your party thinking I’ll have a good time, I won’t.

What if I said, “Hey, on Friday how about you go wander around Target by yourself, buy some Mike & Ike’s, pick up a pizza on the way home then eat it while watching The Fellowship of the Ring. After that, watch a couple of GaryVee videos on YouTube then write articles like this until two in the morning.”

You would hate that.

How much you hate that — that’s how much I would hate going to your party.

To really drive the point home, here’s a list of things I would rather do than go to your party.

  • Sleep.
  • Get a haircut.
  • Delete friends on Facebook.
  • Make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, eat half of the dough, cook the second half, then eat the rest fresh from the oven.
  • Call my dad.
  • Laundry.
  • Learn new ways to lace my shoes.
  • Go for a walk.
  • Go for a run.
  • Go for a run-walk, where I run until I get tired then stop and walk, then starting running again when I’m not tired anymore.
  • Look up the newest generation of Pokémon.

Now you might be thinking, “But I’ve seen pictures of you at parties! You go to other people’s parties but won’t come to mine!”

Yeah, you’re right.

It’s nothing personal. I just personally don’t like you. At least not enough to go to your party.

There’s this milestone that you have to hit first. It’s called the make-cody-like-me-more-than-he-hates-socializing achievement. You’ll know you’ve hit it when I show up to your party.

Here’s a chart visualizing this phenomenon.

Correlation Between Friendship Quality and Party-Going

In order to get to this point we have to connect on a primal, super-introverted level. This means doing things like the following.

  • Go to a coffee shop and share the same table without talking.
  • Go to a restaurant and immediately leave because it’s too busy.
  • Start a blog.
  • Watch an indie movie.
  • Reminisce together about three-hour naps.
  • Take a late night road trip while listening to Blink 182, Third Eye Blind, A Day to Remember, or, well, you should know the rest of them.
  • Discuss Bo Burnham.
  • Talk about the blanket you made. You’ve probably never made one because you’re an extrovert. Go make a blanket so we can talk about it.

Do some of these things and I might come to your party. The more you do, the more likely you are to hit the necessary milestone.

You’re probably thinking, “That’s not really fair. You have to give a little to get a little! How about meeting me halfway?”


That’s not how this works.

I don’t care if you do these things. You’re the one who wants me at your party.

And I don’t give a little to get a little. What do you think I want, more friends?

You’ve got to give a lot to get a lot. That’s the only way this works — all in. Best friends or bust. I’m either a groomsman in your wedding and writing your mother’s eulogy or ignoring your texts and emails.

Until then you can keep inviting me to your parties and I’ll keep saying no.

You’ll think I’m selfish for staying home, and I’d think you were selfish for not understanding if I weren’t so busy rearranging the magnets on my refrigerator.

Sorry, Shannon. Maybe we’ll be there in five years.

This post was inspired by John Devore’s, “I Can’t Go To Your Holiday Party Because I’m An Introvert”.