I have shown enough patterns of introvertedness that people I generally like being around know me as someone who doesn’t like being around people. Admittedly, I don’t enjoy parties, large gatherings, small talk, or extended conversations with unfamiliar people, and I often feel drained after socializing with others. Still, I don’t like having the word “introverted” so closely associated with me, even if it is true.

So occasionally, I go out to prove to everyone that I can not only be social but also be a competent socializer. A couple of weeks ago, I met with coworkers for an end-of-the-semester dinner. I spoke with multiple people for over two hours with no breaks. I was proud of myself. The problem is, some of them wanted to continue the night at a bar where a couple of them would be DJing, and because my social skills are decent, they wanted me to join.

Before I could say, “Nah, I’m good,” one of my coworkers remarked, “I know you’re going to say, ‘Nah, I’m good,’ because ain’t no way you staying out.” Excuse you?! I took this as a challenge, which is always the most effective way to push me to give in to peer pressure. Ask me to do something I can’t do, or feel uncomfortable doing, or don’t really feel like doing, and I’ll say, “Nah, I’m good.” Tell me I won’t do something I absolutely could do and haven’t completely closed the door on doing, and I’ll say, “Bet.”

So I’m like, Bet, and I had drinks and DQ with them. (Note: Finding a DQ in Chengdu is as easy as finding a Waffle House in Atlanta.) We’re all sitting together. They’re having drunken fun. I’m having sober fun. Everyone grabbed small spoons and took scoops of my ice cream. I’m slightly pissy about it because I’m an only child and a bit of a selfish brat, but there’s no time for that because I gotta show these fools I can be social.

I’m tearing into the waffle cup, and as I look up, I notice four girls pointing and staring at us. I accept that from time to time young Chinese people may look and point at foreigners the way kids point at fat and bald people. It’s our reminder that there are still few enough foreigners that if a group of them get together, the surrounding area takes notice. But pointing and giggling inevitably leads to one thing: sneakily taking a picture.

To this day, I still don’t know what people plan to do with these photos. I assume they share the photos on WeChat, letting their friends know they saw a white, Black, or brown person in the wild. Maybe they just like to admire images of people they will never say “Hi!” to. But these girls never got the chance to do any of that. Our Chinese coworker put down her spoon, stood up, and gave the girls the Dikembe “No, no, no!” finger wag. I appreciate her for that. It allowed me to keep eating my ice cream.

No tangible, direct, or noticeable harm is done when people take photos, but there’s still something extremely annoying about it. I’m generally okay with people asking me questions. I’m generally fine with people asking if they can take a photo with me, even if my response is “Nah, I’m good.” I do have empathy for curiosity. But something about people taking photos from a distance makes me feel like I’m on display, like a tourist attraction for non-tourists. I don’t care for attention like that.

I got back to my apartment later that night, feeling accomplished in my mission to be extroverted. I felt quite exhausted. Chatting with drunk people drains my battery by 1% every 90 seconds. I’ve bought myself a couple of months, but the next time someone asks me to go out, I can add this alternate response: I don’t like flash photography.