Too Good To Be True!

From the Globe and Mail- related to a reader's question, but I just loved his response so much I had to copy/paste it. SO funny!
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Ah, your question brings me back to my youth – when I actually liked people and wanted to hang out with them.
Now that I'm in my 40s I've decided, with a few exceptions, I hate everyone. And I find most social gatherings to be little more than zinger- and faux-pas-filled festivals of irritation and annoyance.
And so I avoid them. These days, I mostly concentrate on my work and my family, and spend what little free time I have moodily staring into the fire in the living room of my gloomy mansion, sipping bourbon and muttering misanthropic aphorisms to myself, e.g. Jean-Paul Sartre's famous dictum, “Hell is other people.”
(Next inevitable phase: me in tattered bathrobe and ratty slippers, standing on my front porch, bandy, fish-white legs gleaming in the sunshine, shaking my fist at some kids whose baseball landed in my begonias.)

But back in the day I was a social butterfly nonpareil...
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Reminds me of the social anxiety I felt living back in'res' again, and trying to make lasting connections. I didn't, but I did make a variety of surface-level shallow connections. Apparently I am best at that, skirting the top of the pool of friendships, making friends of a great variety but at best, very shallow level.