Letting loose-ish

In news that surprises no one, I don’t party. I never have. Even in college, I spent most weekends watching TV alone or scoping out all the good equipment at the gym. Pro tip: People don’t go to the gym at 10 p.m. on Saturday. That’s when you can try any machine your heart desires, including the one where you’re supposed to swing your legs to the sun and hope you don’t dislocate something.

The idea of going to the club has always perplexed me. I’m not a big drinker, dislike large crowds and have yet to master dancing in public. Grinding is what I do to coffee beans. It has no other definition to me. Fortunately, living in Carroll County gives me an excuse to bail when someone asks me to go out with them. “Oh sorry, I’d have to drive two hours round-trip,” I say, sticking my bottom lip out as if that translates through the phone. “I’m really, really sad I can’t come.” I am not sad. I am ecstatic … an ecstatic liar. My friends don’t have to know that, right? I sure hope they don’t read this column.

Even though I’d stay home every weekend if I could, I’ve decided to try to do more this year. Gideon and I are taking the first step toward that goal this weekend, planning to see Rhett Miller and Matthew Ryan perform solo sets in Texas. I’ve loved Ryan’s work for years and stumbled upon Miller’s music when Gideon and I got together four years ago. Last fall, the two met for the first time and did a show together.

“If they do this again within a 10-hour drive,” I remember telling Gideon so confidently, “we have to go. We have to go.” In the interest of full disclosure, I didn’t think they’d be touring together again, especially not so soon. But when I saw the tour date listed for late January, I knew I had to stick to my word. We bought the tickets and planned our trip.

On Friday, we’ll be seeing two of my favorite songwriters perform together. It’s the dream for a music lover like me. It’s a nightmare for an anxious homebody like me. Today, I’m feeling the same dread I always do before going to do something fun. That sounds crazy, I know. I should just be excited like a normal human. Still, I have to think about the drive there and the drive back and what if I forget something in our hotel or lose my wallet at the venue?

We’ll be visiting my family in Texarkana on Saturday, which is something else I’m anticipating with excitement and concern. I love my family, and they love me. We have a great time when we’re together, but my brain goes into overdrive worrying about getting there safely and not upsetting any of the people I don’t get to see that often.

I don’t know why I do this. I should be excited to spend the weekend away with my husband. I should be counting the days until we leave. Instead, I’m creating a pro-con list in my head and constantly repeating it until words don’t make sense anymore.

On a related note, I’d be up for trading brains with someone more calm than me. Those interested can email me any time.