Okay, I have a belief about ILIs that I would like opinions about. It seems to me that part of the way that Fe-polr manifests itself in ILIs is not so much a lack of emotion or excitement or whatever, but rather an emotional side (or a "crazy" side, if you prefer) that only comes out in very specific circumstances.
For instance, my good friend who I've typed as ILI says that she acts very silly around approximately three people, and really her best friend more than anyone else (also, there's a good chance they're duals, and I could totally buy this friend as my semi-dual, cause I was pretty into her for a few months, but was of course far too me-like to make any sort of move), but the rest of the time she comes off as serious, especially to people who don't know her, who often think she is arrogant or something like that until they get to know her and realize she's completely down to earth and funny and all that.
My other example is the poet Wallace Stevens, who I remain extremely inclined to type as ILI due to his great reticence and disinclination to be particularly social (in the gamma mode of "three people I really like is infinitely better than a party full of people only two of whom I like"), as well as the fact that he was an insurance executive for his entire life while simultaneously carrying on a career as the best American poet of the 20th century. And he never talked about his great poetic career at work. About half of his poems center on highly philosophical and theoretical analysis and presentation of ideas, a process he called "thinking in poetry." But the other half of his work is downright silly. For anyone who cares, I've posted an example at the bottom of this thread. So it's a similar thing; a silly, crazy side that barely ever gets to be seen by other people (at least in person).
Also, I've noticed that Fi is really good for ILIs; it seems like when they're sure they've built a bond of affection between them and another person, they're much more inclined to "open up," "be themselves," and all that.
Bantams in Pine Woods
by Wallace Stevens
Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caftan
Of tan with henna hackles, halt!
Damned universal cock, as if the sun
Was blackamoor to bear your blazing tail.
Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the personal.
Your world is you. I am my world.
You ten-foot poet among inchlings. Fat!
Begone! An inchling bristles in these pines,
Bristles, and points their Appalachian tangs,
And fears not portly Azcan nor his hoos.