After years of hating people, Tom Matlack is ready to start connecting.
I often find myself in rooms full of a veritable sea of people these days. My wife is a very active philanthropist who works on issues for places such as the Perkins School for the Blind and Massachusetts General Hospital for Children. What this means for me is small talk, not my native tongue. We also have a constantly growing group of adult friends with whom we go to concerts, dinner, and even trips. These more intimate gatherings require small talk on steroids.
As a way to deflect my own social anxiety I developed a party trick. I announce to a table of perfectly kind human beings, “I really don’t like people.” It always gets a laugh, in part because I like to whip it out at a moment of laughter when we all are having a lot more fun than the statement seemed to indicate. I also think it touched the universal nerve that socializing, particularly for guys, can be taxing to our lizard brains. We’d be just as happy to crawl back into our caves with a remote and a beer.
But then it occurred to me, with a little help from my lovely spouse, that my joke was neither funny nor true. I love people. In fact, I crave human connection. They just scare the shit out of me. And always have.
♦◊♦
On personality tests I always come up an introvert—and a nasty one at that. My horoscope sign is Sagittarius, the archer who is half-man and half-horse. Us Sags are known to be tactless and restless despite our freedom-loving good humor.
On the Myers-Briggs, which looks at four key attributes, I am an Introverted-Intuitive-Thinking-Judging, or an INTJ, type. I think that means I have refined the art of retreating to my study to read a book and take a nap into an exquisite art form.
In terms of the enneagram, which breaks people down into nine types, I am a four, otherwise known as the individualist or the tragic romantic. Other fours, according to the enneagram website, are Prince, Thomas Merton, and J.D. Salinger—all men of great artistic ability (unlike me) who looked for deeper meaning in a solitary manner, sometimes fanatically so.
I’ve never been much of a joiner. I went to public high school in Western Massachusetts and like to say that I only heard about my prom in the weight room after it was over. That is stretching the truth, but the reality is that going to my prom, or on a real date, was well outside my social ability. I went to a few high school parties, but it was the rough equivalent of passing gallstones. Some people are born blind, I figured, I was just born hating people, or at least feeling profoundly uncomfortable in their presence.
In high school and college, I used swimming, marathon running, and rowing—the sports that required minimal skill and maximum pain—to cope. If I couldn’t talk to you at a party, I was going to beat your head in on the roads or on the river. Take that, you MF’er, was my thought.
I also learned to drink to excess. The beauty of being drunk is that hatred, or fear, of people disappears as the anesthesia takes hold. You can do whatever you want in any situation because, mentally, you’re no longer there. You’re somewhere in the heavens, watching this drunken fool talk to girls, dance like a crazy person, and break stuff just for fun.
After college, I took my athletic mindset—no skill other than inflicting maximum pain on the opposite team—to the business world, and it paid off financially. My only problem was I was still the same miserable SOB.
♦◊♦
Just to give you some perspective, I recently went back to my 25th college reunion. I realized I have been fighting these demons now for decades. I have three kids (17, 15, and six) and have, on paper, a damn good life. But the “I hate people“ mantra is something I was using as a party joke as recently as this March on vacation with our dearest friends.
My joke is only funny because it is so clearly at odds with the learned behavior I’ve gutted out over these last years: teaching myself to make small talk, to find that one person in a crowd who has an amazing story to share, and to laugh until it hurts with guests at even the most mundane event. Over time, I’ve come to see that while I might complain about coming out of the darkness of my cave, the sunlight of human interaction is actually no less essential to my being than water or food.
I am dying for a deeper level of human contact. It’s not like I didn’t want friends in high school. I just had absolutely no idea how to make them or to begin to fit in. These days I don’t drink and haven’t for almost 15 years. I’m often around people getting intoxicated and a bit silly. I can use that as an excuse to check out too, wandering off into unfair judgment of friends who hold their liquor a lot better than I ever did. But that’s really no better than the hypocrisy of my running joke.
No, the person I have always hated is myself. And instead of being honest about that I just pointed my finger at you: the kids going to the prom without me, the college kids who joined the fraternity, the “in” crowd at the bar, even the sea of humanity I meet on a regular basis, working to cure cancer, among other things. And my fear has been that you would find out the truth about me.
But I think it’s time for me to put that vice down with the rest of them and join the human race. Self-hatred is every bit as much a waste of time as hatred of others. I’m not perfect, but I have arms and legs and can, when I want to be, be charming according to my wife. The point, however, is that when I actually take the time to get to know these people, I find out that we’re not different at all. Even the most stoic guy I know has shared stories with me that brought tears to my eyes and made me feel less alone.
Follow Tom Matlack Become a Fan of GMP
Yes, that’s me making a fool of myself…
I loved this piece, and can identify. I became a sociologist because I always felt like an outsider. So I could read social situations others might not see because they were more comfortable. I do have good social skills in some situations, but admit I like to “f*uck” with people because I think they’re too conventional (read “I’m scared of them.”) I’m trying to get better, but it’s hard. When I get tense, I feel alientated and paranoid. I can be pretty funny, but not everyone likes it. I often talk too much, and don’t listen enough. (ENFP, Taurus with… Read more »
Thank you, Tom for this insightful piece. I shared it with many girlfriends and all of us agreed it shed much needed light in the dark, well, cave called “why are our boyfriends holing up like hibernating polar bears?” -or- “why is going over to our friend’s house for dinner SUCH a big deal? We LIKE them, remember?”
Always grateful for your introspection, much of which helps us grasp confusing issues between the genders. Great read, Tom.
This is an elegant piece Tom. I can certainly sympathize with you. I’ve been in sales my entire business career, but on some days I despise people. Imagine how difficult that is. However, as you so eloquently pointed out it is actually myself that I despise, not other people. Thank you for writing this.
Maybe it’s just brain biology. Much of socializing involves speech and “females have larger Wernicke’s and Broca’s areas, areas responsible for language processing” (check wikipedia: Sex Differences in Humans). I’ve read that males brains may communicate better while doing something mechanical, like bouncing a ball. Is there a basketball game you can actually join?
You’re way too hard on yourself, Tom. I honestly have some of your characteristics, although I don’t see it in a negative light and therefore haven’t beaten myself up over the years. I guess I always saw myself as a unique person, very different from most people. As I got older, my belief system reinforced my self-esteem and helped me to see the positive traits within me. I have family members who regularly relive bad childhood experiences, something that I never do. A phrase I like to say is: “You are not perfect, but you are perfectly you.”
Tom, this piece reminds me of a quote by William Saroyan: “you may tend to get cancer from the thing that makes you want to smoke so much, not from the smoking itself.” (from Not Dying, 1963)
It may be stupid hope, or hubris, that I think we can prevent similar despair in our kids—by teaching them to know identify their feelings, talk about their feelings, and how to act, or not act, on their feelings.
This ‘topic’ (this quirk called manhood) just underscores the need for us to buffer and/or buttress our boys as they enter the cave, ’cause they’re gonna go in one kind or another…in record numbers… letting them know it really can be, and is only, a temporary protective mechanism from the good ‘ol ubiquitous & universal trauma of the male socialization process. We need to sow the seeds, that germinate in time, with the happy realization that the world is a better place with them IN it, than peering at the rest of us from afar.
I just appreciate your honesty Tom. It is a more common experience of men than we like to admit and at the end of the day all of the men I know that have struggled with this – including myself – often come to the same conclusion – fear of others and some degree of self-hatred. No matter how gregarious, successful, and charismatic we may be on the outside it is amazing what undercurrent of insecurity, shame, and self-hatred can be roiling around inside of us leaving true happiness and peace quite elusive. Peace and thanks for sharing.
Tom.. I’ve been trying to reach you, on the recommendation of Amy Dickinson, about a book I’ve written, entitled “So, What Are the Guys Doing?” which covers among other things, how I saved my marriage and overcame social loneliness after turning 50 — along with interviewing nearly 100 other middle age guys on a variety of topics. Did you receive either one of my two emails? Noting the title of this column above, I’d like to point out my unpublished book has been endorsed by John Gray (of “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”) and author/former NFL football… Read more »
Great article, Tom. As a man who’s overcoming his social anxiety I can relate. What I’ve found to work best for me is to take baby steps. Every time I go into a social setting that is anxiety provoking, I tell myself, just try to bring 5% more of my “true, authentic self” to the situation. I used to have this unrealistic expectation that I should be able to be as comfortable as I am with my closest friends in a given social situation, which inevitably set me up for failure and disappointment every time. It was only when I… Read more »
Amazing. I could’ve written this. It reflects my thoughts exactly. Thanks for articulating.
Are you wearing green pants?? Go back into your cave and put on a change of clothes before you come back out!
Dude green is a great color on real men!
When we come out of a cave, it is usually just to start the walk into a different cave. Caves are homes, where we are comfortable and can function with our highest degree of efficiency. Many of us need caves – the thought of operating without the cave safety net is just beyond comprehension. So come on out – but leave a trail of breadcrumbs.
LIKE. Thanks Tom. I had to take some big emotional risks to learn it was safe to come out of the cage, er, cave. And as someone else above pointed out … it’s good to know that I can take breaks and retreat to the cave when I need to. I love discovering how much like others I actually am. Flaws and all.
I found this fascinating. My first husband was/is a social animal, but for him people were pawns to manipulate and exploit, so I actually think he really doesn’t like or respect people. My current husband is extremely anxious socially–being in groups drains him and he tends to hang out on the margins–but he is a true humanitarian and works in a helping profession. I am someone who is quite comfortable talking to people about their new shoes, or the corian they chose for their new countertops, so I’ve had a hard time understanding his aversion to small talk. Your piece… Read more »
Tom, Great post. I can relate on many levels and i am glad that you realize that you dont hate people you hate feeling less than. Way to let your light shine and great picture at celtics game. Hope you are well and give my best to the peeps up in boston. miss you guys down in philly.
It’s safe, Tom, but as an INTJ you know that the cave will always be a happy, and important, retreat. As one who always went to prom and was President of my college Fraternity and has always been part of some “in” crowd, I can tell you that it can be as lonely outside of the cave as it can be inside. It’s not so much about proximity or belonging as it is about being comfortable in your own skin. But you know that.
Very true Roger.