You know how when you are dating someone and you start meeting their friends you inevitably field the question “So, how did you meet?” a million times? Picture that except change the question to “So, do you make a yearly pilgrimage to a desert where you live in a tent surrounded by 50,000 other people for a week?” That is my life.  I’m the Redhead Bedhead, a high reactive introvert with deeply rooted fears of strangers, large groups, loud noises, public dancing and, frankly, camping and I am dating a Burner. Let’s talk about that.

Today the role of the man I am dating will be played by this guy.

Before I get too far I should probably throw a bone to those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about.

• High reactive introvert = actually two separate terms. High reactive people are affected strongly by outside stimuli. Introverts are often, but not always, high reactive. High reactive people are not always introverts. I, however, have the combination going on. I think being high reactive is why I, as a child, perceived my family as always “yelling” at me– they were actually just being Italian. Check out what Susan Cain, author of Quiet: the Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking, has to say. 
• Burner = attendee of Burning Man. As I’m finding the idea of attempting to explain that daunting  I’m handing it off to the good people at Wikipedia.

Now, I have in the past, dated this breed but as I was so steadfastly anti-relationship for so long it never really affected me. It came up in the first-date conversation along with what college everyone went to and how many siblings everyone has. A little “Wait, so you own a school bus?” then some “The fifth largest city in Nevada! Crazy…” finally arriving at “Oh, really? I never would have guessed there was fire involved!”(sometimes I lose my patience and get snarky) and we’re done. Yeah, this is different from that. I’ve fielded the question “So, do you go to Burning Man?” no fewer than 15 times in the last 2 weeks.

I, someone who thrives on one-on-one interactions, recoils at the thought of a large, loud, crowded event, values comfort and tends to hit a wall and become socially useless, have found myself in a world where the parties are 9 hours long and 100+ people large,  the music is electronic and constant and camping is not only accepted very much enjoyed.

If it weren’t for the complete lack of standardized tests that I’m unprepared for I would think I had wandered directly into a nightmare.

Now,  to be fair, when I started dating in Portland I was upfront about my desire to make some friends. My profile actually says “Are you cool? Are your friends cool? Let’s all hang out.” This dude took that seriously and about a week into dating sent me a Facebook invite to a party. Conceptually I found this scary but do-able…until I saw the responses which indicated that more people than had attended my high school had RSVP’d yes to this event. Yeah, I dodged that.

The next week brought another such invitation and similar results. This became a point of contention with him saying “You said you wanted to meet people!” and me saying “Yes, but not studiums full of them. Don’t your friends ever get together in groups of 4?” The answer seemed to be no but he insisted these mammoth gatherings were not nearly as scary as I was making them out to be and repeatedly said “I’m an introvert too!”

Finally I accepted that this was important to him so I agreed to accompany him to a party. That was expecting over 100 people. Where I knew no one. Where he was actually working, leaving me to fend for myself for a while. For me this felt roughly equivalent to tossing someone with ophidiophobia into a pit of snakes. I spent the first hour there walking the line between “I’m socially awkward” and “I’m having a panic attack”

I was a bit floored by the scale of what was going on around me. Folks were building a massive, very impressive structure — the theatre tech geek in me loved this — people were running around all around me pitching in to set up for this party. I felt frozen in place.  There were spirit hoods and tails everywhere (though I suspect my tail might have been inappropriate¹), there was loud electronic music (always with the electronic music!), there was a sea of unfamiliar faces and, god help me, there was one of these. I very quickly went into full sensory overload.

Truth be told there are some aspects of the whole thing I find to be very cool. The community, the camaraderie, the fact that I feel like at any moment I could easily locate someone who knows how to build something large and awesome and probably capable of shooting fire– this is all great stuff.  I, however, remain me and “me” finds this all challenging to say the least. I entertained a brief fantasy of escaping (after all, those old episodes of 30 Rock aren’t going to re-watch themselves!), I considered focusing my socializing efforts on the dogs that were running around (PS- The Chronicle of Higher Education endorses that strategy) and then I remembered my favorite party coping mechanism–find a bar!² I grabbed a drink, met some folks and put on my “meeting the world” face. Anyone who met me at CatalystCon knows this face. This face often results in compliments on my ability to “work the room” and disbelief about my introvert status. I don’t think I pulled it off quite that well on this occasion but I survived. I met some great people, had some good conversations , ate an incredible pulled pork sandwich (yep, I’ve deemed that worthy of noting specifically– priorities, people!)and even did a small amount of public “dancing”³ Good stuff.

It’s funny, right around the time this relationship began I started to put together my class “Dating For Introverts” Researching for that has, I think, left me a bit better equipped for handling this. How so? Previously I viewed my introverted nature as some kind of failing, something I needed to get over or fix. Building the class I really started to get my head around why I am how I am and why it’s not a flaw. I’ve realized that I’ve spent years disregarding how I felt because it didn’t match up with what I thought I was supposed be feeling.  I’m learning to honor what I need, to accept that I have a lower tolerance than most for large-group socializing. I am someone who, after eight hours surrounded by strangers in kilts, spirit hoods and tails (or suits and ties or jeans, whatever) hits a wall and really cannot hang out for that one more drink without getting really unpleasant really fast. I am someone who desperately needs a buddy heading into this type of situation. And sometimes I am someone who needs to stay home and not talk.

And that’s all okay.

What’s more, I’m not the only one. My lifelong habit of comparing my inside to everyone else’s outside had me convinced that everyone else was having so much fun all the time while I was weighing whether or not I would rather be at home under a blanket (The answer is often yes, yes I would) As I was considering all this I met up with someone who I had connected with via Bedhead friends and it turned out he too was a Burner (because, of course). He was talking about appreciating how much self-expression is valued at Burning Man and said the thing that suddenly made me feel understood. The thing that made everything and everyone a lot less scary. The thing that finally got me to stop thinking “I always knew Hell would be in a desert!” and realize that there are folks like me (who get me) everywhere. He said, “Sometimes, though, I decide to express myself by taking a nap”

That made me so happy I almost wanted to put on some Daft Punk and dance publicly.

Almost.

For more on how this adventure worked out for me, check out Tents, Naked Strangers, Boyfriends and Revelations

1.Yes, I understand that when I talk about finding a crowd of flamboyantly dressed people frightening and then speculate about publicly rocking a butt plug I sort of step on my own point. This is life as me.

2. I don’t mean to encourage drinking as a coping mechanism but, seriously, this strategy works. Engaging with a bartender necessitates speaking and usually breaks me out of my terrified silence and there are usually other folks around the bar. Add to that a striking head of bright-freaking-red hair and voila! socializing.

3. If you know me at all, you know why that warrants quotation marks.