The Pop-in and Introverts: I don’t get it.

“Where do go when you are hiding?” I asked. This was to my more introverted friend, who I hadn’t caught up with in many months because, well, she hides. I wondered if she is like sitting in the middle of her living room, with the lights out, while the kids are at school. Or, is she binge watching TV, reading books? I imagine those lizards and tarantulas, lurking in the dark in a tube in their Petco terrariums. You must press your nose up against the glass to find them.

I do not understand this phenomenon, as I am an extrovert, an ENTJ personality type. I light up in the presence of others. It’s my fuel. On top of that, I’m like a Stage 4 Co-Dependent. I’m learning to be alone, merely out of necessity when my children have to go to their father’s house on the weekends, but it’s hard. I tend to stack up the weekend with play dates for myself: a drink here, a walk there, coffee, brunch, you name it. I am fine for the day, but if if I must be alone all day and all night, then I get a little apprehensive. I’m like a dog; you can’t leave me alone for more than 8 hours without letting me out. I might eat the legs on the couch or bark uncontrollably. This leads me to my real question:

Whatever happened to the pop-in?

I know it’s a controversial topic, because many people disdain the pop-in. Is it out of fear that their house is unkempt, or they themselves are a wreck?

I’m seriously asking.

See, I love the pop-in, and no one does it. I mean, maybe I’m just kind of a loser? But, I miss those days (um, maybe in college?) when people would just stop by on the regular unannounced. We’d sit on my bed, or on the IKEA futon in my bite-sized studio apartment, and catch up. Now, I have this lovely living room with overpriced armchairs from One King’s Lane that remains virtually untouched.

I would perhaps pop-in at my friends’ houses, yet I think that’s kind of unacceptable. With cell phones, one should text before stopping by to see if it’s a good time. What happened to bringing a pie over to the new neighbor?

I’m actually laughing right now as I write this, because I just realized this is me trying to socialize when I’m alone, even writing. Ha! I’m essentially talking to YOU. I wonder what makes us this way? I’m fairly certain it’s how you are raised. See, I was alone a lot when I was little. Several years ago, I found this coloring book below that I drew pictures in when I was young. It was a “Book of Wishes,” and I wished that trees could talk so I wouldn’t be lonely (see the misspelling of lonely).

I also wore a shirt that read: I Need Attention. #cryforhelp

My parents both worked, and I was what you’d call a latchkey kid (i.e., I let myself in the door after walking home to school to an empty house until my parents came home). I would watch hours of sitcom TV. Jack Tripper from Three’s Company was my idol. But, I don’t think that term latchkey kid a thing anymore. First off, most of us Gen X/Z parents never let our kids walk home alone. God forbid something happens, you are to blame. Second, I essentially lurk by the door and jump on my children when they get off the bus. I am their Smother, not their Mother.

Is this doing them a disservice?

Perhaps.

Maybe when my kids grow up, they will be hiders.

But, then I’ll do a pop-in.