So you may have noticed I'm hypersensitive about the social contract- it's because I remember most of it in the front part of my brain. When I talk to people, the occasional glazed expression is my running down a checklist. (Appropriate greeting, done. Correct name, done. Appropriate posture and expression, done. Inquiry into other's health, done. Evidence that I recall aspects of other's personal life, done. Made sure I didn't start raving about flowers... oh dear.) Having roommates is pretty much the same process- except now we're pretty up front about our flaws.
"We live in filth, we're introverted and will sometimes hide from you, and you can't move anything in the kitchen. Drink all of our booze you want, don't set any of our shit on fire, never tell us anything in writing that you're scared to say to our face, and pay the rent on time. Oh, and the cat thinks your room belongs to him." (Surprisingly, people are still willing to be roommates. It's a tough market. Also, hi Amistad, R, so sorry about the dishes! And the oranges!)
My point, charming readers, is that ENFPs are supposed to be good at this sort of thing. They're so suave! So aware! So clever and funny and sensitive! I'm sure they never have to warn people that they are bundles of neuroses. You can set them loose in any situation with human interaction, and not worry about them getting into a terrible argument about porch pillars. It's refreshing.
And then they crash on your sofa for a week, not bathing, eating nothing but cheese, and consuming one six pack and one fifth of vodka every day. It's not until the fourth day I even considered that this might socially unacceptable- I was so used to being the awkward one.
I AM ALSO SORRY, a&r, ABOUT THE ENFP ON THE SOFA!
Thank you for kicking him out.
1 comment:
One cannot be blamed for their friends going completely nuts. Thank you for not being upset when I put your crazy homeless friend out on his ass.
Post a Comment