I was out with a group of friends last weekend. We’d gone to a restaurant where a friend’s husband, always extrovertish, chatted with the security guard, the barman and waiters and a group of girls he met at the bar. He high-fived everyone, cracked jokes and generally clowned around. Every now and then, he would come back to our table and tell us, “These people really get my sense of humour. Why don’t you come and meet them? They’re very cool.”
His wife said we were fine where we were and had a lot of catching up too. This kept happening through the evening, with the husband going back and forth between the bar and our table. After some time, he just plonked himself there, and my friends and I proceeded to eat and chat by ourselves.
When we’d finished, she looked over and tried to catch his attention, but he was too busy holding forth to notice. So, I went over and told him we were ready to leave. “Oh, I haven’t eaten. Why don’t you guys come and join us; we’re having such a good time?” he said. I knew my friend wouldn’t want to, so I said we could wait for him or else carry on and see him at home. He looked over at his wife, who was gathering her things, and thought for a minute, then stood up and muttered his goodbyes.
We walked down the stairs and to our cars in an uncomfortable silence. I could see my friend looking distinctly upset and her husband looking mulish but there was nothing anyone could say or do.
It’s not an uncommon situation: both husband and wife are good people and care deeply about each other but their social needs are very different. My friend is an amiable person and will gladly chat with someone if they come to speak to her, but, given a choice, she’d rather hang with people she knows. Left alone in a crowd, she’s quite happy reading a book or scrolling through her phone and doesn’t need anyone to entertain or validate her.
Her husband, meanwhile, derives most of his energy, motivation and sense of self from external situations and people. More importantly, he thrives on attention and praise—regardless of where it comes from. Given that his wife is not particularly gushy, approval from new audiences probably feels extra rewarding.
Psychologists say the more social partner in a relationship often feels judged and ‘held back’ if their spouse consistently avoids social dos. The less social partner, on the other hand, feels pressured and anxious if constantly pushed to socialise beyond their comfort zone.
So, what is the way out?
The answer lies not in changing one’s nature—an impossible task after a certain age—but in managing the logistics of love.
To start with, a ‘pre-event contract’ may help. Before leaving the house, both partners should agree on the night’s objective. Is tonight about ‘catching up with us’ (intimacy), or is it about ‘working the room’ (socialising)? If expectations are set in the driveway, disappointment is less likely at the dinner table.
There is also the ‘Anchor and Orbit’ strategy. In this scenario, the wife is the anchor. She stays at the table with her friends, secure in her comfort zone. The husband is the satellite, free to roam and feed his social meter, but checking in periodically with the anchor—not to drag her into his orbit, but simply to reconnect. Here, if my friend’s husband had returned to the table just to squeeze her hand and say, “I’m having fun, how are you?” rather than pressuring her to join him, the evening might have been more pleasant for everyone.
Finally, it’s best for such couples to agree on an exit time before they arrive anywhere. That way, the introvert knows there is an end in sight, and the extrovert knows they have to pack their fun into a specific window. Think they call that a win-win.