For years, I operated under the assumption that my tastes were set in stone. I knew what I liked and, more importantly, what I didn't. This rigid mindset extended to hobbies, foods, and social situations, all quietly dismissed with the finality of personal preference. Yet, clinging to this belief eventually left me feeling trapped in a profound and monotonous rut.
Breaking the Cycle of Work, Commute, Collapse
After moving to London, I plunged headfirst into my career. My life became a relentless cycle of long hours, draining commutes, and obligatory networking. In the process, I completely stopped making time for hobbies or seeking out new experiences. My creative housemates, who were always off to unusual theatre shows or dance classes, would invite me along. My response was an automatic "no" to anything that didn't seem like "my thing," whether it was salsa lessons or interactive theatre. This self-imposed veto kept me locked in a routine of work, sleep, and eating, leaving me feeling flat and curiously empty.
Determined to shatter the monotony, I began to question my core assumption. Was my taste truly fixed, or could it be trained? I recalled reading that children need multiple exposures to accept a new food. I wondered if the same principle could apply to adults trying new social activities. With that in mind, I embarked on a personal experiment to say "yes" to the things I'd always reflexively rejected.
The Unexpected Joy of Book Clubs and Line Dancing
I started with a book club invitation. As someone with dyslexia, reading had always felt like a strenuous mental workout, so I had a longstanding aversion to it. Fighting my instinct to decline, I went. I listened to the first book on audiobook and, to my surprise, loved the discussion, the company, and the accompanying pints. The next month, I challenged myself to read the physical book on my commute. Now, I spend tube journeys engrossed in novels instead of mindlessly scrolling, feeling vaguely literate in the process.
Emboldened, I ventured into music and performance. I tried jazz clubs, spoken word nights, and even line dancing. It was often awkward and sometimes bewildering. At one contemporary performance where the entire cast wore morphsuits, I spent the first quarter of an hour convinced I'd stumbled into an avant-garde exercise class. Yet, by the end, I was captivated. I discovered that trying things you expect to dislike becomes oddly addictive. I didn't love everything immediately, but I stopped saying no before I'd even begun.
Running clubs felt intimidating, but the more I showed up and actually spoke to people, the more I realised how a shared activity can dissolve social barriers and make conversation flow naturally.
Chess, Cognitive Health, and Cross-Generational Connection
My most recent foray was to my local library's chess club. I was easily three decades younger than everyone else, but that didn't matter. Sitting opposite people with vastly different life stories highlighted how rarely I engage with other generations outside of work or family. We talked about their past careers and local news, and they taught me new chess moves. There is truly nothing quite like the humbling experience of being wiped off the board by someone who's been playing since before your parents met. It was comforting and created a deeper sense of connection than any organised twentysomethings' social event I've attended.
This exploration isn't just good for the soul; science suggests it's beneficial for the brain too. Research published last year indicates that engaging curiosity through new activities can help protect against age-related cognitive decline and support long-term brain health. Stepping into unfamiliar experiences is a workout for your mind as well as an expansion of your social world.
The most delightful surprise was how these new activities began to interconnect. Book club conversations led to theatre recommendations, theatre nights to art exhibitions, and exhibitions to conversations I would never have had otherwise. The reward became this expanding web of experiences and the non-judgmental people who helped me find value in things I'd long dismissed.
By scheduling "try something new" just once a week, I successfully broke the work-commute-collapse cycle that had defined my life. Now, getting out of my comfort zone gives me a genuine buzz. My method is simple: I count to five, approach the friendliest-looking person with a "hello," and any initial awkwardness quickly fades. Next week's adventure? It could be magic lessons, life drawing, or perhaps both.
