This solitary man is an introvert

"I'll be what I am, a solitary man."
                         — Neil Diamond

Since I took a Myers-Briggs personality test about 20-25 years ago, I have often thought myself fortunate to be judged an INTJ — Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Judging. The person who administered the tests to the department managers where I worked said an INTJ like me would be happiest as a researcher in a think-tank or academic setting. I would love sitting in a library carrel every day doing research, learning something new. And I thought, "Yeah! You nailed it!"

Other personality types need human interaction. Some extroverts can't start their day without checking in first with their co-workers. Human contact is essential for them. Not so much for me.

After a traumatic layoff 10 years ago, I worked at two jobs at which I was the only employee in the office. It was not exactly the library carrel I subconsciously yearned for, but it was a job where I could work at my own pace, concentrate on tasks without fear of interruption, and enjoy the solitude.

Retirement a year ago, as you might imagine, continued my solitary ways. With my wife still working, the only "person" I had to talk to was our dog. It has been a retirement that has suited my personality and my working style. And the dog seems to have enjoyed our conversations and long walks.

It's not that I purposely avoided human contact, either in my career or in retirement. I have sought out old friends and former co-workers for conversations. While conversation is not a "need" for me as it is for other personality types, I do enjoy seeing people, catching up and sharing thoughts.

In another week, my wife will retire, and we will test the plans we have dreamed of for years. We will have time — to read, to write, to revive old hobbies, to nourish friendships and family relationships, to develop new skills, to reconnect with people from the past, to travel, to walk together and practice good exercise and good diet, to see our children and grandchildren more.

This new reality will give us the opportunity we have only rarely had — to be together without other people for extended periods of time. In the past few years, our longest uninterrupted times together have come on long drives. While neither of us is extroverted or dependent upon contact with other people, we do cherish our time together, especially now as we face what are, no doubt, our final years together. 

This opportunity reminds me of the wisdom from Ecclesiastes Chapter 4, which was read at our younger daughter's wedding:

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?" 

I eagerly anticipate the warmth of our final years together.