A few years ago, after a long day spent thinking of new nouns for Homer to say after “Mmm…”, my wife dragged me to the screening of a film directed by a friend. The film was fine. The rough part was the reception.

A room full of strangers is not my favorite social scenario. I prefer a room full of people who already think I’m great. My wife, however, enjoys new people, and she was soon making friends who we would never see again. Naturally she insisted on introducing me to one of them.

Alright, I thought. A New Person. No problem. I’m no misanthrope. Just pretend to be a nomal person who’s good at small talk: look people in the eye. Listen to what they have to say. Don’t just talk about yourself. Ask questions that show you’ve been listening. Laugh even if they aren’t funny. Don’t be a misanthrope.

My New Person looked like a blond version of the actor who played Young Sherlock Holmes in Young Sherlock Holmes. So  I attempted conversation with Blond Young Sherlock Holmes.

BLOND YOUNG SHERLOCK HOLMES: So, what do you do?
ME: I’m a TV writer.
BYSH: (IMMEDIATELY) I don’t watch TV. Really, I don’t even own a TV.

Okay, look, I’m fine with people never watching TV. They’re lying, but I understand. I don’t watch that much TV myself. But why do people at parties feel such smug delight at telling you (okay, me), without hesitation, that they don’t watch TV? If you met a dentist at a party, would you announce that you don’t brush your teeth? Would you tell a structural engineer that you don’t ride in elevators?