For most of my life, I treated my tastes as fixed. There were things I liked and things I didn’t, and that was that. Hobbies, foods, and even social situations were quietly written off with the certainty of personal preference. But sticking to that mindset had left me in a bit of a rut.
When I moved to London, I threw myself into work: long hours, commuting, and networking. In the process, I stopped making time for hobbies or trying anything new.
My housemates were endlessly creative, often heading to unusual theater shows, dance classes, or events I had never considered. Salsa lessons? No thanks. Interactive theater? Not for me.
But my automatic “no” to anything that “wasn’t my thing” only kept me trapped in the same routine of work, sleep, and eating, which left me feeling flat and a little empty.
So, in an effort to break the monotony, I began to question whether my taste is fixed at all, or whether it might be something I could train. I had read that children need eight to 15 tries to accept a new food; why shouldn’t the same principle apply to social activities for adults?
I started small. When a friend invited me to a book club, I resisted the instinct to dismiss it, despite my longstanding dislike of reading. Being dyslexic, reading always felt like a mental workout that left my brain exhausted.
But I went anyway. I listened to the first book on audiobook and, to my surprise, enjoyed the discussion, the people, and, naturally, the pints. By the next month, I challenged myself to read the physical book on my commute. Now, not only do I look vaguely literate on the tube, but I spend mornings reading instead of scrolling aimlessly.
Then came music and performance: jazz clubs, spoken word nights, line dancing, contemporary performance—all things I had previously disregarded.
At first it was awkward, and sometimes downright bewildering. One show featured an entire cast in morphsuits, and I spent the first 15 minutes convinced I had wandered into an avant-garde exercise class. By the end though, I was captivated and quite proud of myself for surviving the front-row seats my friends had insisted on.
Trying things you think you won’t enjoy, I found, becomes oddly addictive. I didn’t love everything straight away, but I stopped saying no before I had even begun. Running clubs were intimidating, but the more I showed up—and actually spoke to people—the more I realized how much easier conversation becomes when you start from a shared activity.
Most recently, I tried out my local library’s chess club. I was easily 30 years younger than everyone else, but that didn’t matter. Sitting opposite people with wildly different life stories made me realize how rarely I speak with people from other generations outside work or family. We talked about their past careers, local news, and I learned new chess moves. And honestly, there’s nothing quite like being wiped off the board by someone who’s been playing since before your parents met. It was comforting, if a little humbling, and I felt more of a connection with others there than at any organized twentysomethings social event I’ve attended.
Research published last year suggests that engaging your curiosity in new activities can help protect against age-related cognitive decline and support long-term brain health. So stepping into unfamiliar experiences isn’t just good for your social life—it’s good for your brain, too.
What surprised me most was how these new activities began to spill into one another: book club conversations led to theater recommendations, theater nights to art exhibitions, exhibitions to conversations I wouldn’t have had otherwise.
That, in itself, became the reward—not just the hobbies, but the people who, without judgment, helped me find value in experiences I had long dismissed. Putting “try something new” in my diary once a week broke upI had unintentionally built my life around a cycle of work, commuting, and exhaustion. Now, stepping out of my comfort zone gives me a thrill. I just count to five, walk up to the friendliest-looking person with a simple “hello,” and any initial awkwardness soon disappears.
What about next week? Who knows. Maybe magic lessons. Maybe life drawing. Maybe both.
Frequently Asked Questions
FAQs Trying Hobbies You Think Youll Dislike
Q1 Whats the main idea behind this one change
A The core idea is to deliberately try hobbies or activities you assume you wont enjoy Instead of sticking only to what you already like you open yourself up to unexpected benefits like new friends and a mental escape
Q2 Why would I try something I think Ill dislike That sounds unpleasant
A Because our assumptions are often wrong We might dislike the idea of something based on stereotypes past experiences or fear Trying it firsthand removes the guesswork and can lead to positive surprises youd otherwise miss
Q3 What kind of benefits can I actually find
A The two big ones highlighted are friendship and escape Other benefits include building confidence learning new skills and simply breaking the monotony of your routine
Q4 Isnt this just about forcing yourself to do things you hate
A No its not about forcing misery Its about a shortterm openminded experiment You give something a fair try with a curious attitude not a grudging one If you genuinely dislike it after that you can stopbut now you know instead of just assuming
Q5 Can you give me some examples of hobbies people might wrongly assume theyd dislike
A Common examples include thinking youre not creative so avoiding painting or pottery assuming knitting is for old people believing hiking is too hard without trying an easy trail or dismissing board game nights as boring without attending one
Q6 How do you find friendship in a new hobby
A Shared activities are a natural social foundation When you join a class club or online community for a hobby you instantly have something in common with everyone there This makes starting conversations and building connections much easier than in settings without a shared focus
Q7 What if I try it and Im really bad at it Isnt that embarrassing
