I beg to differ; I am a sociophobe. I don’t hate social events or gatherings or people in general, I FEAR them. I fear awkward social situations, I fear groups of people I don’t know, I fear… pretty much everything that’s pertinent to having a life.
I vividly remember this one incident. I was 4, and this good friend of mine (yes, the one who’s GETTING MARRIED at TWENTY-THREE) had a birthday party to attend later during a day I was at her place, playing. So, of course, I was invited to go along. Note here, a party, with a bunch of people I don’t know. (Friends’ friends do NOT count as people you know.) So I freak out, and invent a clever lie—amounting to something like “Oh, but I’ve gotta go, my mom is waiting outside to pick me up”. I then skip out, walk an insane distance (we didn’t live close at all, and it is not normal (and quite unsafe) for a few year old to tread the journey, let alone unsupervised) and reach home. There, I conveniently invent another lie about how her mom dropped me off, and had to rush off somewhere for an appointment so couldn’t come in.
Perfect, I was a born evil genius.
Of course, there was quite a bit of confusion later, and I was given a stern talking-to, when people found out what I’d done. But it was worth it, I avoided the new crowd; I was safe.
Yes, I’d rather be hit by a truck while hobbling across a street than meeting a bunch of kids and trying to have a good time.
Fast forward twenty years into the future.
Contrary to popular belief, I get invited to random parties all the time. Some arbitrary person’s friend’s roommate’s sister’s something, sure, why not invite the one guy whose ONLY FEAR IS BEING INVITED? Being older, the fear is just the same, and unmitigated. But my methods of evasion have gotten more and more sophisticated with time.
Being the budding psychologist that I am, once in a (long) while, I do beat the fear (when the circumstances are a little more ideal) and go ahead with whatever it is someone’s planned and thought of inviting me for. Why? Because I don’t want them to stop inviting me, dimwit—I just fear going. I do this just enough to keep my name on whatever guest lists, but still fear it mortally.
Like recently, today evening actually, there was this thing that basically involved “a great drunkening”. This eventually boils down to random folk, quite a bit of alcohol, and me getting into insulin shock because I hate bitter things, and I down more Sprite or whatever than my body can handle.
Now that I’ve grown in sophistication, I’ve stopped explaining to people I can’t make it because:
a. I am very uncomfortable around them, and fear them
b. The concept of getting drunk does nothing for me
c. and so on.
So my new found excuse is hinting something along the lines of “I’m a recovering alcoholic, please don’t tempt me”. I don’t actually say it, or use the term “AA,” but I weave around that with words. They tack on a few assumptions and voila. This way, I am not bugged to explain what my beef with them or alcohol is, and I pick up sympathy points from the most arbitrary people.
You’d be amazed how nice people who’re sorry for you can be.
Point being, I’m sure as hell am not antisocial. I’m a sociophobe.
Get your terms straight.