Introverted Extrovert

That sounds like a contradiction in terms, really, doesn't it? It's not. I know someone who absolutely suits that description right down to the ground... As a matter of fact, I know *2* people, who can talk for hours, without revealing any personal information about themselves at all; but I'm only talking about one of them today.

His name is... well, Duncan, for the purposes of this blog. Everyone who reads this knows what his name really is, but fuck it. I said everyone's having a fake name, and they are, and if he doesn't like his, he can sit on a tack. Can't you, Duncan? So ner.

Duncan, as we are calling him, can talk for hours on virtually any subject you suggest--my personal favourites are the mathematical properties of circles/triangles, powers of two, and how beautiful and efficient his code is/what a code-breaking ninja he is--but ask him for some personal details about his childhood, or his family, or how he feels about himself, and boy howdy, does he clam up; then, of course, he goes back to interesting, factual, meaningless chatter. He'd even give my sister, Jessica-I-can-talk-for-hours-about-anything-except-what's-really-on-my-mind-Rabbit, a serious run for her money. Occasionally, I refer to him as 'the Waffle,' both due to his propensity for doing just that (blah blah blah) and also, because it's the phonetic pronunciation of the acronym my ex occasionally applies to him (WFL--Wallet From Leeds).

He's lovely. He's absolutely lovely. But he has, I think, no real idea how to express the darker aspects of his personality, without someone to help him explore those sides of himself. No word of a jest, I am the perfect person to help anyone discover what's really floating around, underneath the surface of themselves. I have a million and one personal, probing, largely inappropriate questions, and no shame or fear in asking them. I sometimes (not always, not nearly, but sometimes) see the questions that need to be asked, and even if I *don't* know the right questions, I am unafraid of the answers.

My Duncan needs to be asked questions, sometimes; and they're not even that hard to work out. I've never met a man who's more inclined to wear his emotions (if not his thoughts) on his sleeve/in his voice/across his face. I don't see how more people haven't devoted days/weeks/months of their lives, to asking him about all the things he *doesn't* say. But it doesn't matter, anymore. Now, he has me, and I'll never quit stalking, and studying, and collating, and cataloguing the Data of Duncan.

I will learn him. I will know him. He can't waffle enough, to keep me from reaching what's underneath all his nonsensical, playful, charming, adorable bullshit.