The subject of introversion versus extroversioncame up in therapy. I had to give my therapist the gentle update on the difference between being an introvert and being depressed, or antisocial, or socially anxious, or whatever.

I described myself as an introvert, and he began insisting that I wasn’t one, and that it was my depression that made me think I was, and so forth and so on.

And I suppose a less naturally combtive person could have let that slide, but uh… I am not that kind of person.

But then he, quite rightfully, brought up the fact that I had said that I was outgoing and charming and liked being around people as a kid.

So that got me to thinking about the whole thing.

Like I said to him, I will always be an introvert in the true sense of the world : someone who generates their own energy rather than taking it from the environment like an extrovert would, someone who finds social engagement draining rather than stimulating, someone who can be quite happy curled up with a book all alone, someone who prefers a small close group of friends rather than a large shallow group of friends. etc.

That’s the kind of thing that does not change. That’s firmly established science. They can figure out whether a baby is introverted or extroverted when its only six months old, and then track that child over the years and verify that it simply does not change.

That said, there can be some motion within the categories. An extrovert can become more introverted, and vice versa.

And I do feel that, on a fundamental level, I am a lot more extroverted than it might seem. I think that, sans depression, I would be a much perkier, brighter, more outgoing and above all friendlier person.

I would, in essence, be Fruvous in real life.

Just thinking about that possibility makes me feel dizzy with excitement. Because like I said yesterday, Fruvous the Fox is amazing. He’s lively and adorable and full of love and life, and people really like him.

The very thought of my actual life being like that gives me goosebumps.

And it could be argued that he is certainly an extrovert. Or at least, a lot more extroverted than me.But he’s the version of me that is entirely my creation where I can be what I want to be and act like I want to act and in that sense, fictional and biologically improbable as he is, he is arguable the most genuine version of me around.

A scenario has been growing in my mind. In it, I go to a gay club and just plain let loose.  No more hiding myself or hesitating at the edge of the diving board or any of that shit. Just throw myself into everything that is going on, and follow my crazy instincts to do things like sit down next to someone and ask them if they are interesting. Approach any guy who strikes me as attractive without worrying about rejection because I am not betting the farm on a positive reaction.

I’m just testing and expanding my charm and charisma. If he lights up and we get something going on, great. If not,. meh, there’s plenty more dick in the sea.

And I know that, at first, I might fail spectacularly. People would probably be laughing at me and wondering who the fuck this crazy fat guy thinks he is and thinking I am the most pathetic loser in the world.

And I am totally fine with that. I am a pretty unique guy and that means it sometimes takes time to get an audience tuned to my frequency.

And some, of course, will never get there. They will continue to think I am an atrocious boor and an embarrassing spectacle. That’s fine too. I don’t need everyone to love me (though it would be awfully nice), I just need a small group of people who like and appreciate me. And in return, I give them all my love and warmth and wonderful wacky cute cuddly vibes.

And once I gather this little group of mutual awesomeness, I will be fine with more or less just hanging out with them.

That’s how it works online. I know a lot of furries online, and I consider them all friends in a general sense. So in that sense, I am an extrovery there.

But my real friends are the regulars at the particular hangout where I hang out who I like and who like me and who are interesting to talk to and not adverse to having a cute fluffy fox cuddle up to them looking for attention.

That’s also kind of an extrovert thing. The constant need for attention. So chalk that one up as a point for Team E.

As Fruvous,. I am always looking for affection and attention and other forms of positive interaction. To be honest. I am actually extremely needy. I just hide it by being cute and lovable and such.

In that way, I feel like I balance the books with people. I get the attention and affection I crave so much and they get all my fluffy cute lovin’. I make them feel good, they make me feel good.

All of life should be that awesome!

So I dunno. Am I truly an extrovert in disguise? Maybe. But for every point in favour of that proposition. I can come up with half a dozen in opposition.

So maybe the real lesson is to not get too hung up on labels. Labels describe what’s in the jar, they don’t define it. They can be useful signposts on the route to developing one’s sense of identity – something to add to your sense of who you are.

But you should never let them constrain you. The moment you start cutting off parts of yourself because they don’t fit the label is the moment when that label has to GO.

So am I an extrovert or an introvert/

Who cares? I’m a ME.

And that’s all I ever need to be.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.