Abstract and Keywords
High self-monitors are people who act like “social chameleons”: they change the way they present themselves depending upon who they are with. In contrast, low self-monitors are simply themselves: they don't try to be “all things to all people.” In initial interactions, the partner who scores higher in self-monitoring tends to speak first, to initiate more conversation sequences, and to use the other person's behavior more as a guide. High self-monitors also tend to use a higher percentage of second-person (“you”) pronouns and to reciprocate their interaction partner's disclosures. High self-monitors run the risk of appearing phony, however, when they try too hard to impress an attractive, opposite-sex partner.
It was during the second semester of my sophomore year at college when I first heard about a new guy on campus—I’ll call him Zeke—whom many of my friends had already met. Everyone agreed that Zeke was a friendly and personable guy who seemed to fit right in wherever he went. The problem was that everyone seemed to know a different version of Zeke.
To a female friend who loved rock music, Zeke had described his younger days in a rock and roll band that toured briefly in southern California. To a male friend who was into cars, Zeke recounted his experiences working in the pit crew of a NASCAR racing team. To another male friend who was into politics, Zeke explained his role as a mid-level campaign organizer in the last presidential election. And to another female friend who was into photography, Zeke described the exhibitions of his art photographs that had been held in New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles.
When I finally met Zeke and told him about my major in English literature (which later became a double major that included psychology), he told me that he had supported himself for a few years as a freelance writer; but his answers were vague and elusive when I asked him about what he had published—and where. Having heard about the alternative Zekes that several of my friends had encountered, I was frankly suspicious. This guy, superficially charming as he was, gave every indication of being “all things to all people.” As soon as he got a good fix on your interests, it quickly (p.159) became apparent that they were his interests too, and that he had already taken them much further than you had.
I got back together with my friends and we arranged a lunch meeting that we would all attend. One of the more attractive women was given the responsibility of inviting Zeke to meet her for lunch at the same place and time. When he showed up and saw us all sitting at the same table together, he looked uncomfortable. He sat down at the place we had saved for him, but he was uncharacteristically silent and he refused to order any food. After just a few minutes, he got up, excused himself, and left the room. None of us ever saw “Zeke” again.
He was a sad case. On the one hand, he was an amazing improvisational actor, a person who could use the few cues you provided him to create—on the spot—a life history that was custom-made to present him as being the person he thought would impress you the most. On the other hand, by trying to be “all things to all people,” he revealed himself in the end to be nothing to anyone: he was no one you could trust, or count on, or feel that you ever really knew at all.
A few years later, when I read about the personality dimension of self-monitoring proposed by psychologist Mark Snyder,1 I understood that the guy I have called Zeke was an extreme (and probably pathological) high self-monitor.
According to Snyder, high self-monitors are people who can quickly size up a social situation; ask themselves “Who can I be in order to make the strongest and most favorable impression in this situation?”; and then be that person in a reasonably compelling and convincing way. High self-monitors are, like “Zeke,” people who combine strong improvisational acting skills with a playwright’s sense of what script they must follow in order to flesh out the character they are playing and to make their performance of that character a convincing one. Snyder has characterized them as “social chameleons,” a metaphor that emphasizes their ability to closely monitor the changing social environment and then change the image they present accordingly.
(p.160) In contrast, Snyder has characterized low self-monitors as people who stay pretty much the same from one situation to the next. Instead of trying to be “all things to all people,” they are simply themselves. What you see is what you get—yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Although low self-monitors might occasionally try to make a better-than-average impression (for example, during a first date or a job interview), they are likely to feel awkward and insincere while doing so, and they are relieved when they can “drop the act” and go back to just being themselves.2
To measure individual differences on the personality dimension of self-monitoring, Snyder constructed the Self-Monitoring Scale.3 The original version of the scale included 25 items such as the following:
I can make impromptu speeches even on topics about which I have almost no information.
When I am uncertain how to act in a social situation, I look to the behavior of others for cues.
In different situations and with different people, I often act like very different persons.
I would not change my opinions (or the way I do things) in order to please someone else or win their favor. (reverse-scored item)
I have trouble changing my behavior to suit different people and different situations (reverse-scored item)
Copyright © 1974 by the American Psychological Association.
Adapted with Permission.
Snyder validated his Self-Monitoring Scale by testing a number of relevant predictions. First, he found that a group of professional actors (people who should excel in the skills attributed to high self-monitors) scored higher on the Self-Monitoring Scale than a comparison group of university students who were selected without regard to their majors. Second, he found that, compared to low self-monitors, high self-monitors more accurately communicated specific assigned emotions through their own nonverbal behavior. Third, he found that high self-monitors more accurately decoded the emotions that were expressed in other people’s nonverbal behavior. Fourth, he found that high self-monitors were more likely to use other (p.161) people’s behavior to guide their own planned actions in an upcoming group discussion.
Having read Snyder’s article that summarized the work described above, I decided to examine the effects of self-monitoring in the very first dyadic interaction study that I conducted as a new Ph.D., in collaboration with my first graduate student Richard Barnes.4 We videotaped the initial, unstructured interactions of a moderately large sample of same-sex (male-male and female-female) dyads, and then tested for the effects of self-monitoring in the behaviors we coded from the videotapes and in the participants’ post-interaction questionnaire responses.
Imagine that you were us. What would you expect to find? Remember that the overriding goal of the high self-monitor is to try to be the person that the situation seems to call for, whereas the overriding goal of the low self-monitor is to just be him- or herself. In this case, the situation is one in which you suddenly find yourself sitting with a stranger in a strange lab while waiting for an experiment to begin. The kind of person this situation seems to call for is a person who can effectively transform what might otherwise be an awkward period of mutual silence into a relatively successful and smoothly coordinated initial conversation. So we might expect that, within each dyad, the member with the higher self-monitoring (SM) score might have been more motivated to try to be that kind of person.
And that, in fact, is pretty much the story that our data had to tell. The results, as summarized in a more recent article, revealed that:
… most of the significant findings concerned the within-dyad rank of the dyad members as being the higher SM versus the lower SM member. With regard to their observed interaction behavior, the higher SM partners were more likely to speak first and to initiate subsequent conversation sequences following periods of silence. With regard to their perceptions of the interaction, the higher SM partners were rated by both themselves and their partners as having had a greater need to (p.162) talk. In addition, the higher SM partners thought that they had been guided more by their partners’ behavior than vice versa, and they reported experiencing a significantly higher level of self-consciousness as well.
Finally, the degree of self-consciousness reported by the higher SM partners was significantly correlated with the number of periods of silence during the interaction (r = .38, p < .01), whereas the degree of self-consciousness reported by the lower SM partners was not (r = .20, p > .10).5
In other words, the person with the higher self-monitoring score within each pair was indeed more likely to try to be the kind of person who could effectively transform what might otherwise be an awkward period of mutual silence into a relatively successful and smoothly coordinated initial conversation. The higher-SM dyad member was more likely to “break the ice” by speaking first. The higher-SM dyad member was also more likely to get the conversation going again when it lapsed into silence; to report having had a greater need to talk; and to report being guided more by the partner’s behavior than vice versa. Last but not least, the higher-SM dyad member reported more self-consciousness as the number of periods of silence increased, suggesting that he or she felt a greater responsibility to respond to these silences, as was indeed the case.
Although the Ickes and Barnes study was the first to examine the effects of self-monitoring in initial interactions, it was not the last study to do so. Let’s look at what the results of some subsequent investigations have revealed.
Dabbs et al. (1980)
The conversational behavior of high versus low self-monitors was also examined in a study by psychologists James Dabbs, Mark Evans, (p.163) Charles Hopper, and James Purvis.6 In many respects, their procedure was quite different from ours. The dyad members sat on opposite sides of a table that had a large wooden box set on top. They were instructed to look at each other through a hole in the center of the box, which contained “two lightly silvered beam-splitter mirrors, which looked like clear glass to the subjects but nevertheless diverted images of their faces into a television camera inside the box.”7 Lapel microphones were attached to each dyad member, and the output from the microphones was fed to a microcomputer that was programmed to automatically record each dyad member’s vocalizations and pauses.
Although this set-up was vastly different from our own attempt to study initial interactions in as naturalistic a manner as possible, Jim Dabbs and his colleagues also found evidence that high self-monitoring was associated with attempts to create a more fluent conversation with fewer and shorter pauses. The high self-monitors in their study used the available conversational cues to begin their own speaking turns significantly faster than the low self-monitors did, thereby leaving fewer and shorter pauses in the conversation. The high self-monitors also kept the conversation moving at a faster pace by keeping their speaking turns short.
The overall impression of the experimenters who collected the data for this study was that “high self-monitors conversed with other highs in a facile (and sometimes glib) manner, that lows conversed with other lows in a manner that was often painfully halting (but sometimes appealingly sincere), and that lows conversed more smoothly with highs than with other lows.”8
Ickes, Reidhead, et al. (1986)
The previous studies tell us a lot about the amount and timing of the conversation that occurs in the initial interactions of people who vary in their level of self-monitoring. On the other hand, the previous (p.164) studies tell us nothing about the linguistic content of these conversations. What kinds of words do the dyad members use most often in their conversations, and what implications can we draw from their choice of these words?
Most researchers don’t attempt to analyze the linguistic content of people’s conversations because it can be a very daunting task.9 However, Susan Reidhead, Miles Patterson and I took a modest step in this direction by analyzing the personal pronoun usage that occurred in dyads whose members varied in their scores on the personality traits of self-monitoring and Machiavellianism.10
Why did we study personal pronoun usage, and (while we’re asking) what is the personality trait of Machiavellianism? To answer the second question first, Machiavellianism is a dimension of personality that was proposed by psychologist Richard Christie and his colleagues. It gets its name from Niccolò Machiavelli—a 16th-century scholar, diplomat, and political strategist who advised the rulers of Italian city-states on the best ways to outmaneuver, control, and manipulate others. To see if contemporary people who believe in Machiavelli’s philosophy are themselves highly manipulative and controlling, Christie and his colleagues developed a scale that assesses people’s agreement with various Machiavellian maxims. For example, the scale includes items such as “The best way to handle people is to tell them what they want to hear” and “Never tell anyone the real reason you did something unless it is useful to do so.”
In their subsequent research using the Machivellianism scale, Christie and his colleagues found that high-Mach individuals are indeed more manipulative and controlling than low-Mach individuals are. For example,
They are more likely than low Machs to take over leadership functions and to … persuade others to form coalitions with them (p.165) (Geis, 1964, 1970). … High Machs also appear to differ from low Machs in their capacity for improvisational behavior. They can generate more innovative ways to disrupt another person’s performance (Geis, Christie, and Nelson, 1970), can bluff or lie more successfully in ambiguous situations (e.g., Exline et al., 1970; Geis and Moon, 1981; Nachamie, 1969), and appear to have a better sense of timing when they make exploitive moves in a competitive game situation (Geis, 1964, 1970).11
Okay, but to re-state the first of the two questions posed above, what does Machiavellianism have to do with self-monitoring and with personal pronoun usage in initial interactions? Our chain of reasoning started like this. At first glance, the traits of Machiavellianism and self-monitoring present a striking similarity: high scorers on both traits are good at creating desired impressions through their improvisational skills and their ability to control their own expressive behavior. At second glance, however, the two traits are clearly different: people’s self-monitoring scores are generally uncorrelated with their Machiavellianism scores. How do we account for the fact that two traits that appear to be so similar are empirically unrelated?
The answer my colleagues and I proposed was that the motives and the attentional foci of high self-monitors and high Machiavellians are distinctly different. High self-monitors are constantly looking toward others for cues about how to favorably impress them. Accordingly, the attentional focus of high self-monitors should primarily be on their interaction partners—the people who provide these cues. In contrast, high Machiavellians have a remarkable ability to keep their focus on their own self-interest, while at the same time resisting any influence exerted by other people.12 Accordingly, the attentional focus of high Machs should primarily be on themselves, rather than on their interaction partners. This difference in attentional focus should be reflected in personal pronoun usage, such that self-monitoring scores should be positively (p.166) correlated with the use of second-person singular (partner-referential) pronouns, whereas Machiavellianism scores should be positively correlated with the use of first-person singular (self-referential) pronouns.
To test this hypothesis, my colleagues and I covertly videotaped the initial, unstructured interactions of both same-sex and opposite-sex dyads. Afterwards, we explained to the dyad members the necessity of not informing them about the videotaping in advance, gave them a post-interaction questionnaire, and then asked them to complete the measures of self-monitoring and Machiavellianism.13 We then had our undergraduate research assistants transcribe the participants’ conversations and code the percentages of first-, second-, and third-person pronouns that were used by each dyad member.
We expected that the dyad members’ self-monitoring scores would be correlated with their use of second-person singular pronouns (indicating a greater focus on the interaction partner as one’s level of self-monitoring increases). In contrast, we expected that the dyad members’ Machiavellianism scores would be correlated with their use of first-person singular pronouns (indicating a greater focus on oneself as one’s level of Machiavellianism increases). And this difference in personal pronoun usage is exactly what we found. Across all of the dyads in the study, the participants’ self-monitoring and Machiavellian scores were correlated as expected with their percentage use of first-person and second-person pronouns (see Table 10.1)
As you can see, the participants’ self-monitoring scores were positively correlated with their use of second-person singular pronouns (you, your, yours, yourself), but were negatively correlated with their use of first-person singular pronouns (I, me, my, mine, myself). In contrast, the participants’ Machiavellianism scores were positively correlated with their use of first-person pronouns (both singular and plural), but were negatively correlated with their use of second- and third-person singular pronouns.
Given our predictions, it’s not surprising that higher-Mach participants used a greater percentage of first-person singular pronouns, but why did they use a greater percentage of first-person (p.167) plural pronouns (we, us, our, ours, ourselves) as well? Our tentative interpretation was as follows:
Table 10.1. We do not have permission to reproduce this table electronically.
A plausible interpretation of this finding is that high-Mach individuals exaggerate the use of first-person plural pronouns in their conversation in order to manipulate others more effectively. For example, the high-Mach person may use the pronouns “we,” “us,” “our,” and so on in such a way as to suggest (1) the implicit agreement of the interaction partner (“He’s not the kind of person we want as our congressman”); (2) the right to speak for the interaction partner (“It looks like we’ll just have to sit here and be bored until the experimenter gets back”); or (3) an implicit consensus of people in addition to the high-Mach person that his or her opinions, proposed action, and the like are correct (“We athletes don’t have much use for the computer freaks on campus”).14
In summary, despite the superficial similarity between self-monitoring and Machiavellianism, there is evidence that they are distinctively different personality traits, each associated with its own predominant motive and attentional focus. And that is why Susan Reidhead, Miles Patterson and I titled our study Machiavellianism and self-monitoring: As different as “me” and “you.”
(p.168) Ickes et al. (1990)
If the focus of high self-monitors is primarily on their interaction partners, we would expect them to be more attentive to the cues that indicate what their partners are thinking and feeling. As a consequence, high self-monitors should be better than low self-monitors at inferring the specific content of their interaction partners’ thoughts and feelings. Or, to state it differently, people’s self-monitoring scores should be positively correlated with their empathic accuracy scores in initial, unstructured interactions.
The results of at least one study suggest that they are. This was a study of 38 opposite-sex dyads that I conducted in collaboration with my colleagues Linda Stinson, Victor Bissonnette, and Stella Garcia.15 After capturing the dyad members’ interaction on videotape, we seated the dyad members in different cubicles where they each viewed a separate copy of the videotape. Their task was to pause the tape at each of the points where they distinctly remembered having a thought or feeling, and to write down the content of each thought or feeling along with the time when it had occurred.
When both dyad members had completed this task, we showed them the videotape again. This time, we (the experimenters) paused the tape for them at the points where their partner’s thoughts and feelings had been reported, and we asked them to write down the inferred content of their partner’s thoughts and feelings at all of these points. Later, trained raters not only coded various behavioral measures from the videotaped interaction but also judged the similarity between the actual and the inferred thought-feeling entries to determine each dyad member’s empathic accuracy score.
The most relevant findings from this study are reported in Table 10.2. These data show that the participants’ self-monitoring scores were indeed predictive of their empathic accuracy scores (r = .24). Note, however, that the other significant predictors of empathic accuracy in Table 10.2 also reflect the degree of attention that the participants gave to their interaction partners. These predictors were measures of the participant’s partner-focused thoughts (p.169) and feelings, the participant’s partner-focused attributions, and the degree to which the opposite-sex partner was rated as physically attractive by a large group of independent raters. Taken together, the data suggest that attentiveness to one’s partner is a necessary precondition for empathic accuracy, and that self-monitoring provides one—but not the only—motive for such attentiveness.
Table 10.2. Some correlates of the participants’ empathic accuracy scores in the study by Ickes, Stinson, Bissonnette, and Garcia (1990).
Measures used as predictor variables
Correlation of the predictor with empathic accuracy
% of partner-focused thoughts and feelings
% of partner-focused attributions
Participant’s self-monitoring score
Partner’s physical attractiveness
All correlations are statistically significant.
Reprinted under the copyrights and permissions policy
of the American Psychological Association (http://www.apa.org/about/copyright.html).
Do people’s self-monitoring scores predict their empathic accuracy in same-sex dyads as well as in opposite-sex dyads? It remains to be seen. Based on the data in Table 10.2, I would expect that if the motivation to closely attend to one’s partner is weaker in same-sex dyads than in opposite-sex dyads, then the link between self-monitoring and empathic accuracy should be weaker as well. However, if the motivation to closely attend to one’s partner is just as strong—or even stronger—in same-sex dyads as in opposite-sex dyads, then the link between self-monitoring and empathic accuracy should be comparably strong.
Studies of Self-Monitoring in Structured Interactions With Confederates
Some studies have examined the effects of self-monitoring in people’s structured interactions with experimental confederates. Although the procedures of these studies are quite different from the ones we use, the results of these studies offer further insights about the differences between high and low self-monitors in initial interactions.
(p.170) Shaffer et al. (1982)
Psychologist David Shaffer and his colleagues Jonathan Smith and Michele Tomarelli conducted a study that explored the link between self-monitoring and self-disclosure reciprocity in initial interactions.16 The impetus for this study was the well-established finding that strangers get to know each other by following an implicit “reciprocity rule” in their mutual self-disclosures. According to this reciprocity rule, the more you are willing to tell me about yourself, the more willing I should be to reciprocate and tell you about myself, following your lead with regard to the intimacy level and content of your self-disclosure to me.
Because high self-monitors are presumably more sensitive to norms of social appropriateness than low self-monitors are, Shaffer and his colleagues predicted that high self-monitors would reciprocate the intimacy level, emotionality, and descriptive content of a new acquaintance’s self-disclosure more than low self-monitors would. In contrast to high-monitors, low self-monitors should be focused less on the reciprocity norm than on “just being themselves.” They should therefore reciprocate the new acquaintance’s self- disclosure only in those instances when they feel comfortable doing so. Accordingly, their overall reciprocation of the intimacy level, emotionality, and descriptive content of the other person’s self-disclosure should be less than that of high self-monitors.
In this study, the participants, whose self-monitoring scores had previously been measured, followed the lead of a confederate in disclosing personal information in four topic areas. Because the confederate always spoke first, “presenting either highly intimate or non-intimate information in response to all topics,” the researchers were able to measure the extent to which the research participants responded in kind. The results revealed that the high self-monitors were indeed more likely to use the cues provided by the confederate’s self-disclosures as guides to their own. Specifically, they were more likely than the low self-monitors to reciprocate three (p.171) aspects of the confederate’s self-disclosures: their intimacy level, their emotionality, and their descriptive content.17
In summary, the study by Shaffer and his colleagues provides another example of how much high self-monitors depend on cues from their partner’s behavior to guide their own self-presentation during an initial social interaction. It appears that the average high self-monitor will try to match the intimacy level, emotionality, and content of a new acquaintance’s self-disclosures even in instances that fall outside the “comfort zone” of the average low self-monitor.
Simpson et al. (1993)
Psychologists Jeffry Simpson, Steven Gangestad, and Michael Biek explored how people’s self-monitoring scores were related to their behavior when they were interviewed by an attractive, opposite-sex confederate.18 The results of this study revealed that high self-monitors (both men and women) smiled and displayed flirtatious glances at the attractive interviewer more often than low self-monitors did. On the other hand, the high self-monitors were also rated as appearing more “phony” during the interview than their low self-monitoring counterparts. These effects were particularly evident for the subgroup of high self-monitors who were interested in having sexual relationships with multiple partners.
The results of this study suggest that the charming image displayed by high self-monitors is not always taken at face value. If high self-monitors try too hard to impress an attractive, opposite-sex stranger, they run the risk of overplaying their role and discrediting their own performance.
And that’s not the only risk they run. One of the most accomplished role-players in film history, the late British actor Peter Sellers, showed all of the signs of being a high self-monitor. But although Peter Sellers had an amazing ability to adopt and convincingly (p.172) “inhabit” a wide range of roles, this ability apparently came at a rather high price, as indicated in the following quote from one of his media interviews:
I have no personality of my own, you see. I could never be a star because of this. I’m a character actor. I couldn’t play Peter Sellers the way Cary Grant plays Cary Grant, say—because I have no concrete image of myself. … You know, it’s a funny thing, but when I’m doing a role I feel it’s the role doing the role, if you know what I men. When someone tells me “You were great as so-and-so,” I feel they should be telling this to so-and-so, and when I finish a picture I feel a horrible sudden loss of identity.19
Did “Zeke,” my acquaintance of so many years ago, have an identity apart from the roles that he played? I like to think so. I also like to think that if he had just allowed himself to be himself, he and I could have been friends. Wherever (and whoever) “Zeke” is today, I wish him well.
Dabbs, J. M., Evans, M. S., Hopper, C. H., and Purvis, J. A. (1980). Self-monitors in conversation: What do they monitor? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 39, 278–284.
Ickes, W., and Barnes, R. D. (1977). The role of sex and self-monitoring in unstructured dyadic interactions. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 35, 315–330.
Ickes, W., Holloway, R., Stinson, L., & Hoodenpyle, T. (2006). Self-monitoring in social interaction: The centrality of self-affect. Journal of Personality, 74, 659–684.
Ickes, W., Reidhead, S., and Patterson, M. (1986). Machiavellianism and self-monitoring: As different as “me” and “you.” Social Cognition, 4, 58–74.
Snyder, M. (1974). Self-monitoring of expressive behavior. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 30, 526–537.
Snyder, M. (1979). Self-monitoring processes. In L. Berkowitz (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 12, pp. 85–128). New York: Academic Press.
(1) Snyder, M. (1974). Self-monitoring of expressive behavior. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 30, 526–537.
(2) Snyder, M. (1979). Self-monitoring processes. In L. Berkowitz (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 12). New York: Academic Press.
(4) Ickes, W., and Barnes, R. D. (1977). The role of sex and self-monitoring in unstructured dyadic interactions. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 35, 315–330. See also Ickes (2003, ch. 2).
(5) Ickes, W., Holloway, R., Stinson, L., and Hoodenpyle, T. (2006). Self-monitoring in social interaction: The centrality of self-affect. Journal ofPersonality, 74, 659–684 (see pp. 661–662).
(6) Dabbs, J. M., Evans, M. S., Hopper, C. H., and Purvis, J. A. (1980). Self-monitors in conversation: What do they monitor? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 39, 278–284.
(7) Dabbs et al. (1980), p. 279.
(8) Dabbs et al. (1980), p. 282.
(9) What makes this task easier now, as compared to the past, is the recent availability of software designed to analyze and summarize the categorized linguistic content of samples of speech and writing. See, for example, the Linguistic Inquiry Word Count software developed by psychologist James Pennebaker and his colleagues (http:// www.liwc.net/index.php).
(10) Ickes, W., Reidhead, S., and Patterson, M. (1986). Machiavellianism and self-monitoring: As different as “me” and “you.” Social Cognition, 4, 58–74.
(11) Snyder, M., & Ickes, W. (1985). Personality and social behavior. In G. Lindzey and E. Aronson (Eds.), Handbook of social psychology: Third edition. (Vol. 2, pp. 883–947). New York: Random House. See pages 889–890.
(14) Ickes, Reidhead, et al. (1986), pp. 71–72.
(15) Ickes, W., Stinson, L., Bissonnette, V., and Garcia, S. (1990). Naturalistic social cognition: Empathic accuracy in mixed-sex dyads. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 59, 730–742.
(16) Shaffer, D. R., Smith, J. E., and Tomarelli, M. (1982). Self-monitoring as a determinant of self-disclosure reciprocity during the acquaintance process. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 43, 163–175.
(17) Ickes, Holloway, et al. (2006), pp. 668–669.
(18) Simpson, J. A., Gangestad, S.W., and Biek, M. (1993). Personality and nonverbal social behavior: An ecological perspective on relationship initiation. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 29, 434–461.
(19) Cited in Lewis, R. (1997). The life and death of Peter Sellers (p. xiii). New York: Applause Books.