My confession about social anxiety: Often, I feel it so intensely that I just eat non-stop for the duration of whatever event I'm at. It's not that food is especially appealing, after a while; it's just that the mechanical act of putting a thing in one hand, then shoveling it down the esophagus, keeps me somewhat stable. This sounds insane, but maybe it's not so uncommon. The special hell of a bad social interaction is captured really well--unforgettably--in Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris." In that movie, the Michael Sheen character handles anxiety by launching into didactic speeches at every possible moment. ("If I'm not mistaken, she was Rodin's mistress...." "If I'm not mistaken, this is Picasso's finest portrait....") You laugh because you have been there; everyone in the scene is suffering, and no one in the scene can name the problem. (I'd argue that Allen has empathy for most, if not all, of his characte...