You're a reflective person who pauses to admire little things: fallen petals on the sidewalk, quality design, and grace. But you don't stop at mere appreciation- you're fascinated by how things work, and probably love science.
What else? Sensitive, and possessed of curiosity and imagination, you have a rich inner world, full of parallels and connections that seem hidden to others. As Antoine de Saint Exupéry said:
"Behind all seen things lies something vaster; everything is but a path, a portal, or a window opening on something other than itself."
Although your head is often in the clouds, friends know you as capable and independent, and you feel content if you go to sleep with dirt under your fingernails (even if it doesn't happen every day).
And of course you think cigarettes and random hookups are lame.
So what's up with this whole falling in love thing? What are you waiting for?
OKC, I'm glad you asked. What a necessary question. Half the time I think to myself, "Yes! I want to fall in love! Where's my Sun-and-Stars, the One I'd spoil and adore?" And half the time I think, "Christ alive, this is MY solar system, and I don't need no Jupiter swinging in and fucking up my orbit." So I want that all-consuming fire, and also to remain my own self- to not be consumed.
Kiting street-corner preachers like the Afghans did the British.
Helping coworkers figure out why VLOOKUP isn't working.
Dropping ancient proverbs into post-modern conversations.
Becoming a better human becoming.
Typical INFJ musings about absurdity and global domination.
"Aw hell, if it isn't Children International again...."
Stuff Buddha said. And tarot cards.
Awkward things I did today that make me burst out laughing in retrospect.
You like chivalry, and you give as good as you get. Let me paint you a picture:
You're the kind of princess who, when kidnapped, takes out all the guards in the castle by the time I ride up on my bitchin' white stallion. Inwardly, I'm disappointed because I wanted exercise after my long commute, but outwardly I say 'I've brought the wine, darling!' in a hokey English accent. You smile, but don't care to ask what kind, because wine is always wine. We share a toast in the amber evening light, get silly, and you provoke me by tickling (which I hate) until we're wrestling across the courtyard- whereupon one of us bangs a shin on something and there is just cursing and laughing, and then kissing. And they lived happily ever after....
In Myers-Briggs terms, I sync best with fellow iNtuitives.
No thanks if: you're poly or have children. Sorry! I respect ya, but we're in different places.