At some point in your life, I’d be willing to bet money that you’ve met someone that says—or you yourself have said—the phrase, “No thanks, that’s not really my thing” (or some derivative of it) in order to justify not doing something. I know for a fact that I have, and I’m not proud of it. In fact, I hate that phrase with a passion.
Now, before any of those people (you know who they are) beat me to it, let me clarify: Saying “No, that’s not my thing” in response to someone’s invitation to a human sacrificial ceremony or something like that would be perfectly fine. (Ugh, don’t you people have anything better to do than pick apart peoples’ statements looking for loopholes?) I’m referring to those who use it in order to stay in their little boxes of comfort and refuse to try things that could change their opinions or interfere with their comfort in any way, shape or form.
I am of the belief that once a person begins to think that he or she “knows things,” personal growth grinds to a halt. By saying “It’s not my thing” and declining to participate in whatever has been offered, you are basically saying “No thank you—I know enough about my complicated, ever-changing inner-workings and deeply-buried psychological desires to know that I would never be able to find any kind of enjoyment in this proposed activity.” And I’m here to tell you that you don’t know anything, so sit down.
I myself used to use this excuse all the time, especially after I first got to college. I was a scared, lonely freshman who, in a desperate attempt to cling to the familiar, refused almost every invitation to anything that wasn’t food. Because I had already decided that I was shy and wouldn’t like spending time with groups of strangers, I managed to isolate myself further, making myself even more miserable. It wasn’t until second semester that I finally accepted an offer to go out to a party with my roommates, at which point I learned some valuable information about myself. 1) I love to dance, even when other people are watching. And 2) Mingling with a crowd of people would not kill me. It wasn’t until I got over that original “not my thing” obstacle that I could let myself have a good time.
Since coming to this realization, I’ve met a number of people that frustrate me continually simply because they refuse to accept that they don’t know everything and that by using this excuse, they’re not helping themselves—they’re just holding themselves back. Refusing to ask out a girl because being forward and proactive “isn’t really your thing” doesn’t help you get what you want—it just further solidifies the fact that you’re going to end up single. Insisting that parties and dancing “aren’t your thing” means that you’re just going to continue to dance alone in your room, wishing you’d had the guts to say yes.
Now, just to clarify—I’m not saying that not going to parties makes you a boring person or that using the “it’s not my thing” excuse is never ever ever an acceptable response to something. I’m just so tired of people limiting themselves on purpose by pretending they have the ability to know exactly what they will and will not enjoy and what will and will not impact their lives for the better. And I know for a fact that if I’d stuck to my old ways and had continued to say, “No thanks, ____ isn’t really my thing,” I would never have met some of my favorite people in life and I would still be dancing on my own—so do with that what you will.
