Why Clubbing Isn't Fun
And why do I keep going out if I know I hate it?
Hey from Austin!
I love this city so far. Coming from Colorado, it’s been world-shaking to wear shorts in February. I’ve also been amazed at all the high-quality, curious people here in town.
I lately realized that I’ve been taking writing way too seriously. So this essay is what happened when I decided to get silly. I combined the honest humor of stand-up comedy, personal reflections, and some analytical frameworks.
Last week, I went clubbing with two friends and realized something: I didn’t have any fun.
I’ve been out to clubs in Austin, Sevilla, and Barcelona. Most mornings when I’m heading home, I think, This was not fun. This is not for me. It was too loud. Let’s not do that again. But once in a while, I keep going out.
So in this essay, I want to answer three questions:
Why do I hate going out?
Why do I keep going out if I know I hate it?
What mental models and morals can I create for myself moving forward?
Wait—Going Out Isn’t Fun?
When I was reflecting on my night out, I made a pro and con chart in my journal. And that’s when I discovered that there actually wasn’t anything cool about clubbing.
Dancing felt forced. The floors were sticky. The bass was so high that it could give a girl an orgasm, and you had to scream and shout directly into somebody’s earhole just to be heard.
I could only think of two thrilling things from that night: weaving between cars on Lime scooters and talking to my friend about our most controversial beliefs. But these were things we could do during the day or in more peaceful places.
For context, I was the designated driver. Yet even a few drinks didn’t really loosen me up. And when I visited Austin in September and got hella hammered with a friend, I still didn’t enjoy myself. It was only a bit better because I had my orange ear plugs with me.
But besides the physical environment, there’s a much deeper level to all of this.
Accidental Forehead Tattoos
As a professional overthinker, I think a lot about worst-case scenarios.
In January, I had a call with a potential roommate in Austin. He was in his 30s, and right away I saw his black eye patch. He told me that one night he lost his eye in a car crash and was declared dead at the hospital. How? A girl at the club drugged him.
And the other night, we were close to some pretty ugly fights. I didn’t feel safe standing six inches away from many drunk degenerates.
My hesitations about going out never made much sense until I read about the concept of asymmetric risk in Nassim Taleb’s book, Fooled by Randomness. First, let me show you an example.
Think about 2 potential events happening—Event A or Event B.
Event A: you have a 999/1000 chance of making $1.
Event B: you have a 1/1000 chance of losing $10,000.
You'd think you should bet on Event A, right? Nope. "Odds are that we would make money by betting for event A, but it is not a good idea to do so," Taleb wrote.
Why? Because the risk is asymmetric. This means that even though Event B is really rare, it will ruin you if it does happen. In other words, the probability itself is "totally irrelevant; it needs to be judged in connection with the magnitude of the outcome."
When you multiply those two numbers—the probability and the payoff—you get the expectation, which adds up to a net loss of $9. And the expectation is a more useful number when looking at long term trends.
Think about the worst consequences of a night out: permanent hearing damage, DUI, or even death. These are all irreversible. They’re metaphorical forehead tattoos that you didn’t even want in the first place.
Sure, you can mitigate some of these risks. You can learn jiu jitsu, pack protection, bring earplugs, and order an Uber ahead of time. But I still worry. It doesn’t feel right. I can’t fully cap the downside. And to me that’s dangerous because while the odds of death are somewhat small, if it does happen, I’m fucked. I’m dead. [1]
What all of this really points to is the concept of control.
Losing Control
I’m one of those people who plans out their entire day the night before. A Type-A tyrant. But when you abuse alcohol, you lose control. I’m scared about getting an accidental forehead tattoo.
There’s a reason why Abraham Lincoln didn’t drink, according to biographer Stephen Oates:
“He used to drink some back in Indiana, but whisky, he said, left him ‘flabby and undone,’ blurring his mind and threatening his self-control. And he hated anything that threatened his self control, feared and avoided it. He didn’t care if others drank—that was their business.” [2]
I detested being the designated driver. I was in control—but only until my passengers left the car. At 2 am, I dropped one friend off at his apartment. Then the other asked me to take him to his car. Nope. I told him he had to take an Uber. He listened.
But besides being surprised at my effortless persuasion, I felt this small sense of doubt in my stomach: Is he gonna get an Uber, or is he walking to his car? Will he get home safe? He got out of the Jeep. He closed the door. He walked down the sidewalk.
He texted me later the next day that all was well. Thank Christ. But still, I worried: in a way, his life was in my hands and I barely knew him.
So now that I’ve articulated why I hate going out like this, why did I still go?
People Pleasing
To be fair, I had different expectations. One of my friends is an intense intellectual who doesn’t normally drink. The other is a recovering addict.
But even if I knew the plan was to party, my past self would still agree to tag along. I’m a bit of a people pleaser. I sometimes shy away from confrontation and expressing how I feel.
I also didn’t want to come off too strong because that might jeopardize a potential friendship. I had weaker boundaries so that I could make more friends, but that actually led to fake friends.
And now that I’ve written this, I can’t see myself going out in that same setting ever again—no matter who I’m with. Yet, sometimes I still struggle when I hear about all of these people going out and having “fun” together.
So when I catch myself thinking this, I refer back to this banger bias called the availability heuristic. The idea is that we recall things that are easier for us to remember.
In other words, you always hear about people going out to the clubs. But you never hear about all the introverts reading The Fountainhead on a Friday night. So when you really think about it, there’s actually a similar number of people that don’t go out. You’re not missing out on anything. [3]
Being Kind to Yourself
I’ve gone clubbing enough times to know that I don’t want to go out that way again. That’s ok! I’m glad I tried it. But to keep doing it for the sole purpose of not letting other people down is not acceptable when I know that I hate it.
Fuck “missing out.” I value the pursuit of excellence and lifelong education, and while this experience inspired me to write this essay and learn more about myself, it’s not something I want to do again.
My men and women probably don’t go out much, anyways. They go to things like 7 am sunrise runs. They read books. They think deeply about their lives. They still might party like psychos, but I won’t join them.
As my friend Jay Yang wrote, when thinking about activities that support your highest self, ask, “Would you wake up early to do this?” I don’t even get up that early in the first place. But if I did, I wouldn’t do so to assassinate my liver and cochlea.
When I know that I don’t like clubbing but I still go, that is a violation of me. It’s almost like telling my future self, fuck you, you piece of shit! I respect myself more than that.
New Boundaries
Knowing this, I need to set strong boundaries for myself. Here’s a helpful heuristic for going out: if I have to yell in your ear for you to hear me, then I will not sit down. I’m already an introvert, and yelling to be heard is retarded.
Moving forward, I won’t go out to those same clubs. I hate them. They drain me. Nobody will convince me otherwise. I prefer more mellow music and different vibes, like a subtle jazz bar. [4]
One of my friends from the night out is this intense, articulate guy. When we first met, we dove deep into ideas like masculinity and religion. Surprisingly, he got groovy at the club. He wore his sunglasses at night and really seemed to enjoy himself.
But when he texted me, I had to be straight with him.
I realized that if I’m not honest with him and myself, I’ll be living in complete misalignment with who I am and who I want to be. You have to be honest upfront and express how you feel—regardless of the reaction. As a fellow writer told me, you can’t be kind unless you have teeth.
If he’s a true friend, he will respect this. And if I love myself, I won’t make myself do stuff that I hate. “Just to set expectations going forward,” I told him, “this isn’t something I want to double down on. But I still really enjoyed our conversation at the first bar.”
“This shit is not sustainable,” he agreed. “I feel like it’s not the best environment for intellectuals because it’s very degenerate by nature.” He said that the club and bar scene is more like a once-a-month thing for him.
“I’d be down to grab a drink and find a quiet place to go deep on philosophy and other stuff,” I told him. He understood. We’re still gonna go out, but this time, to a place with whiskey, whispers, and wisdom.
Notes
[1] Maybe a night out on Dirty 6th doesn’t follow this statistical model. Of course, you can’t always mitigate all risks, but seeing sapiens non sober skews everything in my mind. A friend also told me that not all of Austin is like this.
Obviously most people who go clubbing don’t think this way. One of my Internet friends from the UK told me that when he was in his 20s, going out to get wasted had nothing to do with risk mitigation “and everything to do with losing control and breaking rules.”
“We wanted to go to the loudest, dirtiest, scariest clubs we could find, because that’s where we were guaranteed to have the most fun,” he said.
I guess I just have a different definition of fun. Different taste. I’m also an INTJ and am so analytical that I can’t not think about these sticky situations.
[2] This quote was from the book With Malice Toward None: A Life of Abraham Lincoln. I loved the quote but don’t recommend the book. At the time I read it, it was about as dry as a nun’s cunt. But maybe that’s changed since I’ve refined my taste as a writer.
[3] The availability heuristic could be taken another way. You could argue that there are some good things that happen when you go clubbing, but you just don’t hear about those as much. Who cares that you made out with a milf when someone just got stabbed in the stomach?
[4] As an editor of this piece put it to me, there’s a different niche of bars that resonates with us introverts.
“For me, I felt the same about parties,” he told me. “Too many people, loud music, and I can’t make any meaningful talk. But then when there was quiet music and everyone was discussing ideas, science, math, and philosophy, it was fantastic.”
Thanks For Reading
If you read this far, you’re my type of person!
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P.S. If you’re a curious, ambitious person in pursuit of excellence and lifelong education, let’s hop on a call! I’d love to meet you.
Tremendous Thanks to
, , , and for reading drafts of this bad bitch.Thanks to Madi Taskett for the feedback on boundaries and the idea on kindness and teeth. Thanks to Jack Moses for listening to me and helping me develop these ideas.
This resonates, Baxter. I really like your attitude and approach you express in this piece.
100% agree!! In the end do what makes you happy.