It is hard not to look.  But I am steely.  Resolute in my determination not to stand and stare.  In fact, steadfast not to give the slightest indication that I have noticed him at all.  Although, of course, I have.  Little fucker.

In his twenties.  Old enough to know better.  He is on his bicycle.  Riding down the middle of the road.  Leaning backwards on the rear wheel.  Handlebars in the air.  Doing a wheelie all the way.  Shouting inanely to no one in particular.  Every action screams: ‘Look at me.’

I look at the pavement; look at the neighbouring building; looking at a pigeon, pecking for scraps.  Do anything not to look at him as he passes by.  I will not be manipulated by such a blatant display of public exhibitionism.

I can’t stand the desperation that lies behind this form of ‘look at me’ extroversion.  And it takes many shapes.  The over-garish clothes walking in the High Street; the over-loud voice talking in the open-plan office; the over-extravagant reaction to a minor situation.

It seems fashionable to bandy the label ‘narcissistic’ when describing similar behavioural traits, but what I am describing is not a clinical condition.  It is just failed extroversion.

My solution to these ‘look at me’ extroverts is simple.  Come over to the dark side.  Embrace introversion.  Discover the liberation of not constantly craving attention; find the freedom of walking amongst your fellow citizens unnoticed.

A whole brave new world awaits you by wearing sensible clothes, talking quietly, and riding your bicycle in an orderly fashion.

© Simon Turner-Tree

Simon Turner-Tree would stand as leader of Introverts United, if it didn’t seem too much like putting his head above the parapet.