One of her Secrets of Adulthood is,“You can choose what you do, but you can’t choose what you like to do.”
I like to dance. I took lessons as a kid, which was fun, but I stopped when it got too competitive. I took lessons for my wedding, which was fun, but the performance was a bit stressful.
I think that's why I hate clubs. Here's the thing: I don't own any clothes appropriate for clubbing, I look stupid in most clothes appropriate for clubbing, and I sure as heck don't want to put down a significant amount of money for an outfit on the off chance I might, someday, go clubbing. As if, in that circumstance, the outfit would still be appropriate. Dated and ill-fitting is more like it.
Then I get there, and every woman is better looking than me. I'm incredibly self-conscious. I could have a drink to relax, but drinks cost how much?! Maybe just one. Why aren't any guys checking me out? I must be hideous. Why are the creepers checking me out? Why do the creepers always go for me?! My husband says it's because he's standing right here -- only creepers would hit on a girl who is clearly with a guy -- but it's not like he's reacting either. He's given me steamier looks when I've been wearing the least flattering pajamas I own. You know what? It's all because I'm so self-conscious. Well, of course I'm self-conscious! I'm the most disgusting thing in here, and I say that having seen the bathroom!
I feel anxious and kind of ugly just typing all that. I have no desire to experience it.
Problem is, I like to dance.
I like to dress pretty, have a glass of wine, belt out the lyrics to a cheesy, upbeat song, and move. Proms were pretty good for this, believe it or not -- I went with guy friends to most of my formal-ish dances, so that worked. College formals had their ups and downs, but none of the downs had anything to do with the super-anxious rant above. And my husband's law school formals were great once I got to know his friends.
But since then, it's pretty much been weddings or nothing. And I do like weddings, but short of throwing a stupid cheesy fake prom myself (I don't even want to think of the expenses), I don't have any other opportunity to throw on a dress, stand in a clump of friends, and jump up and down yelling the lyrics to "I Gotta Feeling."
I can't choose to like clubs. But I didn't choose to like dancing, either. What's the solution?
Have you ever been in a situation like this? How did you solve it?
Updated 10/22/13 to correct formatting.
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