The Opposite of “Meet-Cute”: Didn’t-Meet-WTH?

There's really no good photo for this post.

There’s really no good photo for this post.

Unless you are one of those rare people don’t watch movies or TV shows ever AND do not have any friends in relationships, you most likely know what a “meet-cute” is. It’s a strange/entertaining/coincidental scenario where two people meet each other for the first time and fall in love later.

You know, when you ask a couple how they met and they say “Oh, it’s actually a really fun/cute/funny story…” Let’s be honest here, most of the time the story ain’t that cute, but I do know a really good one.

“Talking to Strangers on Public Transit Late At Night Is A Great Idea!”: My coworker was taking the bus late at night and this dude was standing on his skateboard on the moving vehicle while holding onto the rail. She told him to be careful, and they started talking. He invited her to go “see the best band in San Francisco” right then, and she went with him. No, she didn’t get murdered or robbed that night, and he actually chose the exact same bus route to propose to her on years later. Awwww! (But seriously, usually it is not a good idea to go somewhere alone with someone you barely know at wee hours of the night, kids!)

I’m a sucker for well-written romantic comedies, so I’m that person who patiently listens and smiles at the right spots as boyfriends and girlfriends finish each other’s sentences and tell me all about the circumstances that had to line up for them to lay eyes on each other for that first destined moment. I ask almost every time, and I usually don’t regret it.

But meet-cute does not happen to me. Instead I get the opposite. Let me explain.

So I’ve been single and going on dates for a while now, and many of my lovely friends have tried to set me up with their coworkers, their friends, or their acquaintances, which I really appreciate. I have gone out with plenty of these guys (Thanks again! *Thumbs up*). However, there are also instances where the universe lines up the stars just to prevent me from ever meeting someone who was supposed to be oh-so-perfect for me. I call this the “Didn’t-Meet-WTH.”

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Yes, I Have Quarter Life Crisis, and “The Defining Decade” Book Review

I have type A personality so I like to do as much research and preparation before I set out to do something. This includes dealing with quarter life crisis.

I remember my very wise friend Natira telling me that quarterlife crisis comes in waves: At different age in your twenty’s, you freak out about different things.

I remember the paralyzing fear and anxiety I felt during the period after college. I went to the campus hospital because I was experiencing sudden bouts of nausea, intense headaches, and difficulty breathing. I thought I had developed a brain tumor or asthma, or caught some weird disease somehow.

When the doctors kept running tests and coming back with negative results, I vividly recall the nurse asking, “Is there anything else going in your life right now that we should know about?” When I answered with feigned nonchalanced, “Oh um, I’m just looking for my first real job. I graduated a couple of weeks ago. Not doing much,” the nurse’s face changed from puzzled to really, really concerned. She suggested softly “You need to go see a counselor, hon.”

Thus I made an appointment at the psychological services department. (Big shout out to UC Berkeley for letting students keep their health insurance for a few weeks after graduation! AND providing the first five counseling appointments FO’ FREE! Thank you, thank you, thank you!) Each session flew by quickly because I just had so much to say, things that I thought would make me seem weak or whiny if I told them to my peers or family. I thought I was one of the very few people going through similar things, or at least the ones taking it the hardest.

At the time, I had no idea that quarter life crisis was a thing. I also had no idea how common it is. After I’ve found a job (well, paid full-time internship is close enough), I told friends about the physical symptoms I had that lead me to seeing a counselor, and to my surprise, many of them apparently also made themselves worried-sick during their first real job hunt. We were just all too embarrassed to admit to each other. Most of them did not seek professional help like I did because they didn’t think this was important enough to warrant that.

Now I’m not so nervous about my future that I’m tossing my cookies randomly anymore, but now there’s just a quiet disturbance always bubbling beneath the surface. I didn’t want to wait until for it to erupt to learn about how to deal with it that when my other twentysomething coworkers told me about the book Defining Decade: Why Your Twenties Matter—And How To Make The most of Them Now By Doctor Meg Jay, I bought it immediately.


I find it extremely helpful. The book couldn’t possibly give me personalized, specific recommendations on how I can work to improve my life, because every reader is unique, but the book did provide really poignant ways and realistic perspectives to think about how I can begin to improve various aspects of my life. Using examples from her anonymous clients, Meg Jay draws insight from these real-life twentysomethings’ often misled reasoning and how we could do differently to move forward. While I don’t have the same issues as them, I easily sympathize and quickly relate with each one. Sometimes I’d even think to myself, “Oh this sounds a lot like my friend ____!”

I’m not going to spoil the book for you, and it is definitely worth reading for yourself, but here are the three main points that I personally find the most valuable:

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I’m an Asian Girl- Here’s How NOT to Hit on Me, and What to Do Instead

Obviously this is me consuming my native food in my natural habitat…And that was sarcasm. Ironically I don’t use chopsticks correctly anymore.

Recently I was forwarded this op-ed piece and parody guide about dating for an Asian-American girl in the US. And 5 months ago Mark Zuckerberg’s marriage with Priscilla Chan caused a storm of uniformed racist comments on the Internet.

I think it’s high time we address the pink (Ooh probably Asian!) elephant in the room: I’m an Asian American young woman living in United States, which means I get hit on VERY often with racial pick up lines. I also live in San Francisco, where it seems like I can never not see at least one interracial couple with the female being East Asian walking down Valencia Street.

Allow me to share some choice words that have been bestowed upon me or my fellow Asian American lady friends by men who were attracted to us:

  • “Hey! Do you like fried rice?”
  • “Do you know why I like Asian girls? Because they’re tighter.” (Please do not ask me to explain that one to you)
  • “You’re a very pretty Asian girl. Have you ever made out with a white guy before?…Would you like to?”

You get the idea.

Once upon a time I complained to an ex about this, he said he totally understood where I’m coming from but explained to me that these guys are just sleazy creepers who will say dumbass things to any woman. I responded with “No, you’re missing the point.”

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Strange Advice My Dad Gave Me On Very Important Things In Life


Upon noticing my depressed state shortly after my first real break up ever, my father said to me over a meal:

“The way I see it is this: It’s like you had a favorite mug. You used it and carried it with you all the time. One day it broke. What are you going to do? Are you going to hold onto the pieces? Are you going to cry about how it shattered? No, you go out there and find another f***ing mug to buy.”

Ooh boy just got objectified!

(Okay my dad didn’t really curse, but that would have been epic.)


One time when my dad came over to visit, my housemates and I were recounting how a female guest was so into our male resident that she knocked on his door at wee hours the night before. My dad laughed and exclaimed:

“Oh I was also handsome when young! I was so popular in school because I was charming and smart. Actually a girl literally kicked down my dorm room’s door once- that’s how much she liked me. But you see, now you’re young and good-looking, but when you’re old…*motions to balding head*…It’s all gone. I am still really funny though. And sharp.”

This is a picture of my dad when he was young. So fly with the aviators and curly hair.

Tru dat.


My second ex-boyfriend kept trying to be friends with me after we broke things off. I made polite attempts but he complained about my minimum correspondence.

Once I happened to receive a text message from said ex when I was hanging out with my dad. I let out a grunt so exasperated that Papa Lu demanded an explanation. I briefed him and this is what he responded with:

“Okay, it’s like this: You went to the supermarket and grabbed a big piece of chicken. You paid for it at the register. Now you’ve come home with it. Should you cut it in pieces? And how many pieces? Then, how should you cook it, hmm? Stir-fry it? Bake it?…. Guess what? It’s your f***ing chicken! You can do whatever you want with it. It’s up to you.”

My affinity for creating weird metaphors is definitely hereditary.

(I think I should clarify that I actually have never heard my dad swear in my entire life, although seriously sometimes it’s needed for emphasis.)


“Never get into a physical fight with anyone in their own home. They would know where the knives are.”

And now you know.


If you plan on taking any of these tips from my dad, PLEASE let me know in the comments section so I can tell him and make him super happy.

24 Signs That Your Date Is Bad News, Based on True Events

One for each year that I’ve been alive! Honest to higher powers if they exist, I did not make up any of these. I experienced the majority of the incidents below, and added a few from my close friends. All happened for reals.

Please, think carefully and consider running for the hills if any of the following occurs. Don’t repeat a known mistake and waste any of your time. See below for why I have several contacts listed in my cell’s phone book as “First name DO NOT PICK UP.”

1. Avoiding or deflecting get-to-know-you questions. For instance-

Q: “How about you? Where did you grow up?”

A: “The South. I loved it. I hate living in California.”

Q: “Oh ok… why do you hate it?”

A: “Why do you care? It’s not important.”

2. Explaining that they’re “only looking for fun and friendship.” Yeah, you know what else starts with the letter F?

3. Letting you pick up a large check at a cash-only place since they didn’t have any bills, promises to pay you back later, and then never did when a miraculous modern invention called the ATM exists.

4. Telling you that he’s currently crashing at his friend’s place because his ex just broke up with him so he had to move out of their apartment.

5. Taking pictures of you without you knowing, only for you to see it on their friend’s phone later. It doesn’t even have to be a scandalous photo. It’s just creepy and they could have just asked.

6. Expressing the statement “I could be with any other girl right now, but I’m here with you instead” in a non-sweet but self-pitying way.

7. They have horrible nicknames for you. Such as “Kiddo” even though they’re only one year older than you. Also this way they don’t have to remember your real name.

8. When you realize that your date is trying to impress strangers harder than they’re trying to impress you. Imagine the following scenario- In the middle of their singing in front of an unfamiliar crowd at a karaoke bar, they take out a harmonica from their pocket for a obviously well-rehearsed solo. You compliment them when they get off the stage purely out of politeness, and they respond with “This place is way too busy. I wish I could do a few more songs. That guy before me was super good.”

9. Asking “Are you sure?” after they asked if they can come up to your apartment after walking you home, and you said no nicely already. You know, just to double-check in case you changed your mind in the last 15 seconds.

10. Forcing you to do anything physical is bad, but forcing you to slow dance with him in public on a street corner against your will is on a whole new level. I’m all for Hallmark/Broadway musical/Disney/romantic comedy moments in real life, but the key word here is CONSENT, y’all.

11. Stating something like “I am really mature for my age.” Some comparable lines would be: “I am really tolerant and open-minded considering my upbringing.” and “I am really funny.” Show it, then there won’t be a need to say it.

12. Being openly insensitive about your background or known insecurities. Such as making fun of the cab driver’s accent when they know that your parents are immigrants whose first language is not English.

13. Speaking for you. Like when the waiter comes by at the end of dinner and asks if you two would like to see the dessert menu, your date says no for both of you without consulting you.

14. Insisting that you’re “crazy” or really drunk, or anything else that you’re not when you have already told them that um you’re not. Sample conversation:

Date: “I like you- I can tell you’re crazy.”

Me: “Um…no, I’m actually not. To be honest, I think I’m overly logical and kind of a Type A control freak.”

Date: “A-ha! That’s how you’re crazy.”

15. Flip-flopping on an answer. For example,

Q: “So how do you know my coworker?”

A: “ Oh let’s not talk about him- he sucks.”

Q: “…Why are you friends with him then if you don’t like him?”

A: “Because he’s awesome!”

16. Comparing you with other women, right in front of you. Exhibit A-

Date: “This feels weird, doesn’t it? I guess your kissing style is just different from other girls I’ve been with before.”

17. Trying to have lengthy conversations with you via text messages, but never asking you to hang out in person.

18. Blaming you for a bad kiss. Sample line: “Your mouth is just kind of small, so I feel like I’m slobbering all over you a bit.”

19. Asking you important questions repeatedly that you already answered before recently. Chances are that he’s seeing so many other girls that he doesn’t remember you specifically, or he didn’t think your reply was important enough to be retained in his memory.

20. Telling you that they “like” you with something attached to the sentence.

(a) “I like you, but if I really like you, then I would actually date you.”

(b) “I like you enough.”

21. Suddenly hailing a cab unexpectedly and wants you to get in the car with them without ever discussing where you’re going first.

22. Preemptively excusing himself, like “I just have never been a good boyfriend.” or “I have always been emotionally detached since my bad childhood.” Saying that that’s just the way you are does not make for a get out of jail free card or a legitimate reason for bad behavior.

23. Responding to your confessional question of “So what are we doing? Are we just friends? Because I’m really attracted to you.” with “…I mean, if it makes you feel better, I am really attracted to you, too.

24. Walking away from you in the middle of the street, without any explanation or saying goodbye.

I totally understand that sometimes there’s just no chemistry between two people, and the date might be bad in the sense that it was boring. BUT there is a huge difference between that and someone just being insensitive, insulting, or condescending. And ain’t nobody got time for that.

Now go out there and date someone better!


RIP, Resting Bitch Face

A minor case of RBF. I can almost hear the scoff.

Also known as Chronic Bitchface, a resting bitch face is the condition of having an autopilot mean expression. When this term came out last year, I immediately embraced it and told everyone proudly that I have RBF.

Earlier today as I’m smiling to myself on the street, thinking about how I was holding a super cute puppy while shadowing an SF SPCA outreach event, a man stopped me and said “Excuse me? I just want to tell you that you’re really gorgeous. And your haircut is really awesome.”

Did I mention that I was scarfing down a BURRITO in sweaty gym clothes without make up? If my mother were there, she would chide me for the thousandth time that eating while walking on the street was incredibly unladylike.

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I’m a Girl and Sure, I’ll Make You A Sandwich

Or how about some Tuscan chicken with fennel, tomatoes, and fresh rosemary?

Before you get all excited, allow me to explain.

The other day I forwarded an amazing sea urchin uni pasta recipe from Bay Area food blog “Focus, Snap, Eat” to my fellow foodie friend. She responded, “YUM! So when are you making this?” I immediately retreated, “Oh um, I don’t know…” Of course she asked me why. I thought about it and the reason came to me quickly, and I also recognized how messed up that rationale is just as fast.

Some background information first: I LOVE FOOD. I love eating it. I love cooking it. I love talking about it, learning about it, looking at it, smelling it…

Just to really prove it to you, my first college boyfriend asked me once, “Do you love me more, or do you love food more?” I think you know what my answer was. I can’t blame him that much though. Food induces so much joy in me, way past the level of sustenance for survival.

I also really enjoy making food. But when I’m just cooking for myself, I tend to gravitate towards the easiest and fastest dishes that are usually vegetarian, since handling meat requires a lot more preparation and care. I also love baking sweets- it’s such a therapeutic process mixing everything together, but really, everyone can live fine without brownies and cookies.

When I’m making food to feed someone else though, cooking becomes something that is not associated with necessity.  The goal becomes to make these people whom I like happy with my culinary creations.

If I’m cooking for someone other than myself, I am more willing to put in a lot of efforts: purchase expensive ingredients, hunt down rare items, choose recipes that require more work and care, AND try to make the food’s appearance as pretty as possible. It is an immense source of happiness for myself, too, and I get such an ego boost when others take delight in my dishes.

Oh and wait until I start seeing someone. Oh god. I’ll just be baking for no apparent reason. The housemates and friends really appreciate this, because I always bake enough for everyone. Any special occasions like his birthday come up, and I will cook up a storm in the kitchen. Then I will look at my 4+ course meal spread on the table, frown, and say in true grandma fashion, “Oh no. I don’t think I made enough.”

What’s really messed up about all of this is that even though I really like eating and making elaborate food, I don’t care enough to do it for myself. The meals I make for myself are pretty tasty, but they could be so much better and less repetitve. I always love going out to restaurants but it’s almost as if I’m saying to myself “I’m sorry, but you’re just not worth putting in this much work.” This is startling especially because I really pride myself on being independent, and a part of that includes doing things that makes me happy for myself.

In one of my media studies classes, we learned that in advertising, women are mostly portrayed as cooking and feeding others, rarely seen putting food in their own mouths. When they finally can eat something in ads, it’s usually one of the four following situations:

  1. The woman eats with guilt
  2. The woman eats in hiding or secretly
  3. The woman eats a very tiny portion or something light like a salad
  4. The woman eats openly and without shame, so she is portrayed as having an uncontrollable appetite with a hint to her equally insatiable sexual appetite

I am not making this up. Next time, pay close attention to print ads or commercials involving females and food. I am a foodie feminist so of course this upsets me a lot. At the same time, I can’t help but want to provide for those whose company I enjoy by making them food. It’s even worse when I cook for a guy because it can be read as such an act of servant-like domesticity.

I think I’m going to try to put in more effort into making food for myself, but I am also not going to beat myself up for getting so much satisfaction out of feeding others.

So, what kind of sandwich do you want?


Enter the Year of the Dragon

Me owning a piece of the Great Wall of China

Happy Chinese New Year!

This lunar year is the year of the Dragon. The dragon is the only mystical creature out of the twelve animals on the Chinese Zodiac. It does not make much sense at all. There is a children’s story about how the gods held a race in pre-historic times to determine the order, but how a mouse beat a horse (and were there no cheetahs back then?) is also quite a mystery to me. I am certain that the ancient Chinese had some other wiser reason for this arrangement. They always do.

What is even more peculiar is that the ancient Chinese did not come up with the concept of dragons based on dinosaurs at all. Rather, a Chinese dragon is the combinations of 9 different things: antlers of a deer, ears of a cow, body of a snake, belly of a clam shell, scales of a fish, claws of an eagle, paws of a tiger, AND eyes of a demon. Despite that last part, dragons remain a positive symbol for prosperity and good luck in Chinese culture. A Chinese dragon is also basically all-mighty: besides being able to fly and breathe fire like its Western counterpart, a Chinese one also can swim gracefully. It dominates all three environments of sky, land, and water.

Tonight I took my brother and my father out to Chinese New Year’s Eve dinner at Tommy Toy’s downtown. Like every Chinese restaurant would, the venue was decked out in red paper decorations for the holidays, most of them of four-character idioms of happy wishes. My brother made an interesting observation- although Chinese New Year is like Christmas in the sense that it’s a time to be with those close to you, eat a lot of good food together, and people give out presents in the form of money in red envelopes, the good wishes of CNY are so much more…practical and worldly.

I’ve translated and paraphrased some below. Keep in mind that these sayings have existed for thousands of years, and no, I swear I’m not making these up:

  • Congratulations and become rich! (the well known phrase “Kung hei fat choi”)
  • Live long and thrive!
  • May all your family members be safe every time they go outside!
  • Continuously improve and get promoted!
  • Hope you have lots of offspring!
  • All your kids will get into good schools!
  • Happy nation and peaceful citizens!

…and my friends wonder sometimes why I’m so practical. What can I say? It’s in my lineage.

In ancient Chinese belief, people are supposed to have the best luck in the year of their birth zodiac sign, and that big things will happen in their life during this time. True story: In the middle of our conversation about the paper decorations at dinner tonight, a display with the word “fortune” FELL ON TOP OF ME. If that’s not a sign of good luck, I don’t know what is.

You guess right: Yep, I am a Dragon. And I did write this whole post just to say that people born in the Year of the Dragon are awesome. Fellow dragons, this is so our year! I’m excited.



Be Nice To Your Body By Making It Do Difficult Stuff

There is a lot of downtime at high school cross country meets.

It’s not even 9 PM on a Tuesday and I’m already wearing my robe and sniffling in my bed. I had been drinking every night for 6 days straight, and even though my alcohol intake is always moderate, it’s taking a toll on my body. Also incidentally I have not worked out at all during that time period, unless you count intoxicated dancing on stage.

When I was a kid, I used to get sick at least once a month. Or at least that’s how often it felt like. I went to the doctor so much that I had “favorite medicines.” Although my grandma is an excellent cook who makes balanced meals and I was as much of a glutton back then as I am now, I was stick-thin despite all the older folks’ efforts to put more food on my plate.

The Taiwanese educational system does not put much emphasis on physical education at all. At my elementary school, we had PE once a week and the activities seemed to rotate mainly among badminton, ping pong, hacky sack, and dodge ball. The boys sometimes had basketball games while the girls cheered on.

Then I moved to Modesto, California. At Teel Middle School, students were judged on their ability to finish the mile under a certain amount of at the end of each grading period, so I got a D in PE the first semester. I forgot what was the exact passing rate, but I am sure it was around 18 minutes.

Growing up in Taipei, I did not have a lot of opportunities for outdoor activities. We left the city on the weekends sometimes, but it wasn’t enough. I slowly became healthier and stronger in suburban Modesto by simply just playing outside more. Freshman year in high school was when I had the brilliant idea of trying to join a sports team, when the last adjective anyone would use for me was “fit.” I don’t remember why I made that decision but I suspect it has something to do with adding extracurricular activities on my college application. Thank you for that one, overachieving tendencies!

After not making the cut for our high school softball and volleyball teams as predicted, someone told me that our track & field was short on people. I showed up and immediately was told to go to the long distance running and jumping events coach “because he doesn’t have enough people.” Thus began my ongoing habit of exercising.

That first few weeks were absolutely brutal. I was hurting in places of my body that I was not aware could be capable of pain. I visibly limped around and I often sat on the edge of a bathtub to submerge my legs in ice-cold water. Thankfully my dad was studying to be a massage therapist at the same time, so I was his grateful guinea pig almost every day after the two-hour gruesome practice. I eventually got over it and joined cross country running, too, even though I never placed in anything.

I can tell you later more about all the tips I picked up about running during those four years, but my point is that I really believe everyone should exercise in any way they can. I am not athletic at all and I was born that way without any good genes to help me. Very hard to believe, but I am the most “sportsy” person in my family. I try to exercise as much as I can because all the health benefits of fitness were proven true on me. I don’t think I ever even caught a cold in high school since I started running.

A group of our sixth grade classmates have stayed in touch over the years, and I cannot help but notice the drastic physical differences between my old female classmates and me, even though we were all in similar shape when I left.

People tell me all the time, “Oh that’s so cool you do _____. I wish I can do that.” The thing is: YOU CAN. Nothing brand new is ever easy at first. I definitely made a fool of myself countless times but you gotta start somewhere and the pay-off will totally be worth it!

In a few days I’m starting a new series here about each type of exercise and dance classes I’ve tried over the years to hopefully convince you to try them at least once. I’ve taken so many different classes because I am lazy inherently and I want to find the ones that I can stick with. And I’m not very good at self-discipline, either, so I willingly pay someone to encourage/yell at me in a group setting where I feel the peer pressure to not slack off that much.

C’mon, people. Let’s do this so we can all look as good as Rob Lowe or Jennifer Aniston when we’re 45 years old.




Dance of the Dragon Daughter

Me in 5th or 6th grade. Also the last time ever that I had hair past my shoulders.

Ever since the Wall Street Journal posted an excerpt from Amy Chua’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother a whole year ago, I’ve been asked the same question quite a few times: “Chin, you’re Chinese. Was your mother a Tiger Mom?”

The answer is no. Do you see me play any musical instrument? Let along a classical one well? Definitely not!

All kidding aside, I finally read the book a few weeks ago. Ironically, my mom was the one who offered it to me. The book was excellent- hilarious, touching, and very emotionally intense at various turns. I highly recommend it.

I don’t even know how to play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” on the piano anymore (that’s basically how far along I got on that skill), and no one ever needed to push me to study at all. Once I got the taste of the rewards and ego-boost that came with doing well academically early on, I just kept going.

I do recall that once I came home with a report card in probably third grade, my mother took a look at the score in the high 80’s and said neutrally “I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.” I’ve gotten a lot of B’s and even lower grades after that (in fact, I got an F one time in English in 5th grade. Oh the irony! ), but for some reason the shame and guilt I felt that first time I ever disappointed a parent really stuck with me.

Right at the entrance of most Taiwanese schools is a rankings board of each class

Although I am very glad that my mom isn’t a Tiger Mom, there is actually one instance where I hope for the opposite: I really wish she didn’t let me quit dancing.

Even when I was little, I was really good at knowing what I want and going after it with concrete steps. My elementary school bus’ route passed by this dance studio with a huge sign of its phone number outside, and at some point it occurred to me that I wanted to learn how to dance. I wrote down the number and I handed it to my mom at dinner that very same day.

I think it must had been only about 10 months in my ballet and jazz classes when I told my parents that I wanted to stop for the most ridiculous reason: I said that dance classes were taking away time and energy from my academics. I WAS IN FOURTH GRADE! Was drawing class too difficult and time-consuming?

To this day, I don’t know why I did that. The excuse I provided was legitimate for almost anything in most Chinese parents’ eyes, so I must have picked that for its success rate. Maybe Amy Chua was right- a hobby only becomes fun when you’re able to be very good at it. Perhaps I realized I was never going to be great at institutionized dancing because I started so late compared to the other girls. I did enjoy it immensely, but possibly I was also afraid of not being good enough?

On the other hand, I’ve learned my lesson from this huge regret in my life. I’ve been taking as many dance classes as possible “for fun” ever since high school. And I also tend to contemplate very carefully if I’ll regret quitting something before I actually make that decision. That’s exactly how I surprised everyone and changed from a kid getting sick once a month to varsity cross country runner, but that’s a story for another day.