ENFPs are extraverts until the room is full of numbskulls. Then you become an introvert out of disgust. You see right through canned compliments, half‑truths, and obsession with appearances. It drives you crazy when everyone else seems okay with it.
You’re so used to relying on your charming likability that you think you can fake it — nod, smile, play along. You think you’re hiding your impatience. But you’re not.
I used to give speeches to 1,000 people at a time, and my speaking coach taught me that while I’m talking, I should connect with one person in the room — with my eyes and my feelings. When I really land the connection, I can move on to someone else. And here’s the secret: when you do that, the whole room feels it because people have incredible skills for reading nonverbal cues of connection.
The same is true with disconnection. We intuitively know when someone’s talking but not connected to what they’re saying. That’s why people can feel when you’re checked out — yes, even spunky, effervescent ENFP you gives off those unrelenting nonverbal cues. They might not name it, but they sense your energy dropping. Your eyes give you away.
But whatever. That’s great. Your refusal to tolerate phoniness is part of what makes you magnetic. Everyone can sense that your enthusiasm is real, and that you won’t waste it on something hollow. The part of you that can’t fake liking someone is the same part that makes your passion so rare.
So don’t waste it. Don’t perform when you’re checked out. Let your energy go quiet, or step away entirely. Save it for what’s real — and when you come back, bring it all.