I'm Only Here for the WiFi (7 page)

But which hobby is for you? There are so many different aspects of personal growth and enjoyment that a hobby can fulfill—it really depends on what you're looking for. Generally, it's best to pick three or four from a list of things that you want to get out of your new activity. The range of possibilities, at least in my humble experience, looks something like this:

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 Losing a certain amount of weight/getting in shape without having to go to the gym and be stared at by grunting, flexing bros and hot soccer moms in full makeup on the elliptical.

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 Meeting a new group of friends who will at least somewhat extricate you from your incestuous inner circle of people who cannot stop sleeping with, dating, and breaking up with each other at regular intervals.

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 Staving off having to sign up for online dating for at least a few more months with the hope that you're going to meet the love of your life between the hours of 7:30 and 8:30 p.m. after work three days a week.

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 Potentially honing a skill that you would one day perhaps like to turn into a full-time career (a career that doesn't make you vaguely consider suicide every time the alarm goes off).

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 Being able to tell people you meet about your exciting new activity, briefly giving the illusion that you are a multifaceted human being with interests outside of browsing the Internet for GIFs of cats and taking Photo Booth pictures of yourself holding a glass of wine.

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 Reconnecting with a friend or significant other by engaging in some new, fun thing with her that doesn't include eating handfuls of cheddar popcorn and watching reality television (not that those things aren't uplifting and wonderful).

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 Learning a new skill that you've always thought of as being really cool and something that, despite the likelihood that you will be terrible at it, you really want to try.

No one hobby is going to cover all these bases, and that's fine—you probably don't need it to. But opening the door to having things to do throughout your week besides working, sleeping, and eating Chinese food is guaranteed to bring nearly endless other possibilities of things you could engage in. The guy at your office who is training for a marathon, who comes in with his bike hoisted above his head, who is constantly attending these obscure jazz concerts and telling you about the amazing group of Czech backpackers he hosted through Couchsurfing—how do you think he got that way? Do you think he just woke up one morning and said to himself, “Hey, I think I'm going to make all the people I come in contact with feel bad about their total lack of motivation in life?” I mean, it's possible, but I doubt it. It's a process, and it has to start somewhere.

First things first: You're probably going to want to get in shape. Now, as someone whose fingertips are at least 70 percent of the time coated in a thin film of Dorito dust, I am not one to decide exactly what “in shape” should entail. It is not a particular size, it is not a particular diet, but it is a feeling. Even I, who would literally subsist on a diet of whipped cream shots out of the can and curly fries if given the opportunity, have had to suck it up and balance my life out a little bit. Does that mean giving up everything that's seen the business end of a deep fryer forever? No. Does it mean spending all your spare time doing hot yoga while feeling incredibly inadequate/sweaty? No. But it does mean finding a decent middle ground, and a good group activity can always help with this.

Let's say you join a dance class. Yes, at first you're going to look ridiculous and probably gross out countless partners with your extreme Clammy Hand Syndrome brought on by crippling nervousness. It happens. And it's tough, because becoming suddenly aware of how out-of-shape and uncoordinated you are can tend to cancel out your potential dates motivation for signing up in the first place. But as time goes on, and as you start to realize that moving your body around occasionally can make your whole day go by smoothly and be filled with more energy, it begins spilling over into the rest of your life.

You want to eat a little better, you want to maybe take the stairs instead of the elevator, you want to make the small changes throughout your day that make getting out on the dance floor (and into a relatively attractive dancing outfit) less of a Sisyphean undertaking. Whatever form of physical activity seems least painful to you, go for it. The point is not so much
what
you're doing, it's
that
you're doing something. Because unless you start to put the occasional green thing in your mouth and leave the sitting/lying position for at least thirty minutes a day, you're not going to have much energy for anything else.

There is no rule that says you have to join a club to get into shape. You could very easily start jogging in your neighborhood and keeping a food log that puts into brutally clear terms just how many Swiss Cake Rolls your daily routine consists of. But if your goal is also to start a new activity during which you come in contact with new people/change up your lifestyle, it is killing two very large birds with one relatively inexpensive stone. There are a lot of benefits to choosing a hobby that includes physical exertion—but that doesn't mean it isn't without its downsides.

Each potential activity you could undertake has its own very distinct pros and cons, and it is best to be aware of them from the get-go. If we're being honest with ourselves, we'll acknowledge that most of us will probably attempt a few big ones for two weeks before abandoning them in favor of more frequently attending happy hours, and we need to address those. If you are going to pick
up something obscure, like Tuvan Throat Singing, I commend you—but as I have no information on the subject, I'll just assume it's nothing but upsides. Bitches love a Tuvan Throat Singer.

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 You are learning something that gives you a very direct and tangible ability, one you can use as you learn it and practice on your own time, as opposed to things like salsa dancing or fly fishing, which are hard to put in hours for while your unamused roommate tries to play Xbox next to you.

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 It's relatively inexpensive, especially considering all the Rosetta Stones that are out there for the illegal downloading—I mean purchasing, like a decent human being.

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 If you get good enough that your meet-up groups can include actual native speakers, this could be the opportunity to meet hot, foreign tail. And even at the beginner meetings, you are at least guaranteed a group of potential dates who have a vague interest in culture.

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 Learning another language provides even more justification for your already ill-advised vacation, at which you know upwards of 80 percent of your time will be spent drinking with other English speakers.

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 It's among the least physically engaging activities you can take up, so any hopes of burning off the extra wine calories drunk at meet-ups is out the window, unless you hold your speaking groups while riding tandem bicycles.

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 The groups of adults learning/practicing languages are often peppered with at least a small sprinkling of creepers who are solely there to hit on people (and don't even try to mask it with a vague attempt at the language).

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 Come on, it's a little nerdy.

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 In order to take the language-learning experience to its proper level (and to reward yourself for all the hours spent practicing), you're eventually going to have to schlep yourself to a foreign country where it's actually spoken—an investment that counteracts any amount of language workbooks you may have stolen off the Internet.

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 This exercises both literal muscles and the tender emotional muscles that are flexed by having to come in constant, repeated contact with strangers.

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 You are learning a skill that is undoubtedly useful, as there is nothing worse than being the person at a wedding or other event that requires dancing and refusing to step on the dance floor for fear of “looking stupid.” That person never gets laid.

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Being able to dance will help you in your seduction of potential mates when you're out and about, since nothing is sexier than someone who can do a dance that doesn't involve having a set of genitals rhythmically grind against your lower back.

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 Your butt will look like two scoops of butter pecan ice cream in your clingy dance clothes if you stick religiously to your practice regimen.

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 You have to dance in front of actual people, and since you are going to see them on a regular basis, you can't just humiliate yourself willy-nilly.

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 Sweaty dance trolls who are there solely to foist themselves on unsuspecting students lurk in the corner of every dance hall, and you may be forced to come in contact with them during the partner-rotating portion of the lesson.

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 Possible financial investment in dancing shoes so you're not the “guy wearing running shoes at the dance lesson.”

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 As soon as you make it known that you have taken up partner dancing to any degree, you are automatically labeled “dancing person,” who is expected to “bust out moves” at any and all occasions, even if you are severely unprepared to show off the things you've learned. “Come on, twirl me around” will be the
new mantra of everyone who has consumed more than one and a half beers within ten feet of you.

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 You will be welcomed into the elite-yet-clammy world of “intellectuals” who actually devote their free time to reading real books, often printed on actual paper. Though anachronistic, it is surely your entry ticket into a more classy caste of society.

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 You'll be provided with a list of literature to read, so you no longer have to do the searching and self-motivating to plow through the new Jonathan Franzen tome.

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 You get a chance to meet bookish hotties who can sport a dapper cardigan and horn-rimmed glasses and would be happy to retire to bed after a few glasses of red and a conversation about Bukowski over Indian food.

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 You belong to a group that motivates you to work on all that terrible poetry you've been saving up in your cramped little heart space for all these years—the poetry that the world doesn't even know it's missing.

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 If getting healthy were even a peripheral goal of yours in taking up a new hobby, sitting around reading/writing/talking about books with other doughy hipsters in blazers is hardly the most efficient strategy.

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The reading could potentially be bad/uninteresting—or you could just be incredibly lazy—and you may find yourself at a meeting for which you have not done the appropriate preparation. You will essentially be re-creating the bullshitting of your tenth-grade term paper on
The Grapes of Wrath
, only this time, it's your chosen leisure activity.

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 You stand to discover how terrible your poetry actually is.

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 People may expect you to be more articulate/thoughtful/ informed now that you have taken up reading as your personal activity, which could lead to awkward watercooler discussions when it is discovered that, outside the book of the month, you mostly just read your Facebook feed.

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 The overall benefits of having to work with peers in a team setting to achieve a common goal is one we readily acknowledge with children, but we often forget how positive it can be for adults as well.

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 Teamwork is still a good experience at twenty-five.

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 You may get to wear cute uniforms, uniforms that potentially show off the adorable butts of some of your cuter teammates.